Changes
by SomeoneNewer
Summary: She had always taken the elevator to her apartment when she arrived home from work, but when she came home one night to find it out of order, she was forced to take the stairs with her neighbour. From that night forward, her life started to change, and it would never be the same again. A Joker/OC, Joker origin fic. Rated for future chapters.
1. The Night Things Changed

_It was the night things changed_

_Can you see it now?_

**Taylor Swift - Change**

I'd had pretty much the same work routine since moving into the old apartment building in the Narrows almost a year ago. Get up, get ready, head out to be at the hotel for five in the evening, leave the hotel at two in the morning, and arrive back at home just before three. Take the elevator up, and just be getting into my apartment as my quiet neighbour from across the hall rounded the corner on his way to his. He took the stairs, see, and I took the elevator, so our paths never really crossed.

I hadn't really gotten to know anybody since moving in. I already had a few friends I could barely make any time for, and didn't look to make more. Especially in the Narrows. Besides, I got to socialize with lots of interesting folk at work. I was working at a fairly nice hotel in Gotham. I worked the bar, mostly, and provided some entertainment by way of singing there a couple times a week. Waitressed when needed. I liked my job. Sure, Gotham is dangerous, but you adapt. You stay on your toes and keep your eyes open. You make do.

Things started changing for me one night when I arrived back at my apartment building to see a hand written "Out Of Order!" sign taped to the elevator. I sighed and shook my head. I don't really like having my routine messed with (plus, I lived on the sixth floor), but there was nothing I could do about it. I turned towards the stairs and noticed my neighbour just opening the door to ascend them himself. He saw me approaching and held the door for me, smiling sympathetically. I guess my routine hadn't gone unnoticed by him. Either that or he'd seen my four inch heels. His smile extended outwards further than the average smile would, thanks to scars on either side of his mouth. I barely noticed them from afar, but they must have been painful and prominent at one point. They'd faded a great deal.

"Thanks," I smiled back at him. He nodded in response.

We climbed the stairs in a somewhat awkward silence until about the third floor when he spoke up, "You're dressed far too nicely to be coming home to the Narrows." He said, a laugh on his breath as he spoke.

I paused to remove my impractical shoes and glanced down at the dark green, satin dress that swished around my knees as I walked, "Yeah, it's just for work." I chuckled back, opting not to elaborate. The hotel liked it if I dressed up when I was singing. Gave it a more 'classy' feel, they said. I straightened up, shoes in hand, and we started to climb the stairs once again. I was surprised he had bothered waiting for me.

"Ah, say no more," he said with a wave of his hand, indicating his attire. It was only then I noticed he was wearing a black button down with the logo for the Wild Card Club a few blocks away. That explains why he kept such late hours, too.

We walked in a relaxed silence until we got to our floor. When we reached our doors he thrust his hand towards me, "It's Jack, by the way. I don't think we've officially met..." he trailed off, another smile gracing his scarred, but otherwise handsome, face.

"Kaylie," I took his hand with a smile. "And, we haven't, but it's nice to finally meet you. I'll see you 'round, Jack."

"Tomorrow night, I reckon?" He smirked as we turned to our respective doors and headed in for the night.

Once inside, I went about my normal routine (though a bit quicker than I would have had I not had to take the stairs, to make up for the time). My mind kept wandering back to my handsome, friendly neighbour. How had it been that I'd never taken a moment to introduce myself to him? I shook my head as I put some food down for my two cats. Once they were fed, I changed from my green dress into a long, blue nightshirt and got myself ready for bed.

I was on the bar the next night and, admittedly, I was anticipating the end of my shift. Something about Jack made me eager to get home and chat my way up the stairs with him. I tried not to let it distract me from my work too much, though, and just worked the night away. Thankfully, it was Friday and, as such, quite busy. The shift went by pretty quickly and I soon found myself heading to the bus home.

I was jittery on the ride home. Anxious to get there, bouncing my jean-clad knee and fiddling with my long, red hair, as I removed it from its clip. As I got nearer to my stop, my heart started beating faster and I shook my head at myself. I was being silly. 'No reason to get all worked up over a neighbour you only just met,' I thought to myself. 'You're too old to be having a high school crush.'

I was always glad that the bus stopped just across from my building. The Narrows is a rough enough place to live without having to brave a long walk home at nearly three in the morning. I was doubly glad for it tonight, though, and as I walked through the doors of the building, I smiled to see Jack leaning on the wall just outside the door to the stairs.

"Thought I'd missed you," he said, returning my smile and opening the door for me once again. I found myself glad that he had thought about me at all.

"No, just the busses running a bit behind tonight," I explained, throwing my hair behind my shoulders. Jack nodded.

We climbed the stairs side by side, neither of us seeming to be in a hurry to reach our floor. "Wonder when they'll get around to fixing the elevator," Jack said lightly, glancing sideways through dirty blonde curls at me as he spoke.

I shrugged, "Who knows? With this place, it will probably be ages," I laughed before adding, "at least the company's good."

I got a full, toothy smile for that, "Yeah, nice to have someone to pass the walk with. When I first moved in here, I got stuck in that damn elevator for over 3 hours with half of the stuff I was moving in. The other half got stolen from the sidewalk when the cab driver left it there and drove off, sick of waiting," He laughed at his own misfortune. "I haven't been in it since."

"Can't say I blame you, there. I feel a bit apprehensive now, myself," I replied.

Jack regarded me with dark, brown eyes, "To be fair, this is the Narrows, it was probably stolen within the first ten minutes."

I found myself nodding and laughing at the truth of his statement as we reached our floor.

"Y'know," Jack began as we stopped to unlock our doors. "I have a theory about you." He pointed at me and shook his hand towards me as he did so.

"Well, if you'd like to come in for a cup of tea, you're welcome to share it," I invited. "Otherwise, it'll have to wait until tomorrows walk."

Jack squinted his eyes and smirked at my forwardness, but took his key out of his door and made sure it was still locked before wordlessly crossing the hall. I opened my door, "After you," he gestured grandly with his hand and mock bowed. I shook my head and laughed, walking in with him on my heels. 'This could prove to be some interesting tea-time chat,' I thought to myself as I closed my door. I wasn't wrong.

Jack would always describe this night as our first date. That always made me laugh. He liked to think that I was the one to ask him out first. That I was so smitten with him from the get-go that I just had to ask him out right away, lest someone else scoop him up. I'd always roll my eyes at him and nudge him when he told the story. I suppose he was right in some ways, I was smitten with him right off the bat. However, this was not our first date, no matter how much he would have argued otherwise.

"Don't worry about your shoes," I said as he was about to kick his off. He nodded. I pointed towards the island in my kitchen. "Take a seat. I'll be right out," I went to the second bedroom, which doubled as a computer/kitty room, and put some food down for the cats. I heard Jack chuckle as the younger one, Samson, raced down the hall from, I assume, the window ledge in the living room. The older one, Stanley, was curled up on the computer chair and took a slower approach to getting his dinner.

Jack was facing the hallway when I walked out, sitting on the nearest stool, leaning back with his elbows on the countertop. He had unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up. He looked at me in amusement, "You've got a cat?"

I held up two fingers, "Actually, I've got two," I corrected him. "Why, you not a cat person?" I narrowed my eyes jokingly.

He put up his hands, but kept his elbows firmly on the counter, "I'm fine with cats. You just didn't strike me as a pet person," He pointed at me with his right index finger as he lowered his left hand.

I walked around the island and into the kitchen, Jack spinning on his stool to watch me with a grin. I shook my head at him. "How do you take your tea?" I asked as I put the pot on the stove and took out two mugs.

"Just milk. No sugar, Sugar," He chuckled at his own joke and I rolled my eyes. I put a splash of milk at the bottom of both mugs and started putting three spoonful's of sugar in mine. "Geez," Jack exclaimed, watching. "Good thing I don't take sugar or you'd be out at the rate you're going."

"Very funny," I smirked, used to such jibes from others I've had tea with. "Three isn't that many. I worked at a coffee shop when I was in high school, and one of the regular customers took six sugars in a small tea."

Jack scrunched up his nose, "Who gets tea in a coffee shop?" I reached over the countertop and pushed him lightly on the shoulder. He laughed in an exaggerated manner at his own bad gag.

I rolled my eyes at him again and turned as I heard the kettle start to whistle at me from the stove. "So, what's this theory you have about me, Jack?" I inquired as I poured our tea.

"Ah, that's right. My theory," He cleared his throat behind his hand as though he was about to make a grand reveal, then paused, narrowing his eyes at me. "I'll wait until you put the tea down. I don't want to risk hot tea in the face if I'm wrong."

I passed him his tea and sat down across from him, setting my tea down and leaning forward, my hand still on the mug, "Careful, now, I've still got my tea, remember," I reminded him, jokingly.

He smirked through his first sip before talking, "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but, uh, given the way you occasionally dress... All fancy or classy or whatever you want to call it," he gestured with his hands as he spoke, and I reddened a bit at the fact that he'd taken notice of my clothing before last night. "And taking into consideration the fact that you live in the Narrows, which isn't quite in line with your fancy dress. It crossed my mind that you might be some kind of high class escort or something?" He held his breath for a moment and let it out slowly, clearly hoping he hadn't offended me with his theory.

I was slightly taken aback, but not offended. I found the way he rambled through that theory kind of amusing, and the tone of apprehension is his voice as he turned his theory into a question, as though sincerely hoping he was wrong. "Or something," I assured him. He let out a relieved breath I hadn't noticed he was holding and I laughed. "Though it's nice to know that, if I give off the hooker vibe, at least it's the high-class-hooker vibe," I winked.

Again, he put his hands up defensively. "Hey, I never said 'hooker,' I said 'escort.' You said 'hooker,' not me," he gestured between us as he spoke. "So, what is it, then? Restaurant hostess at some faux-classy joint in the city? But you're in jeans tonight, so...?" He narrowed his eyes as he tried to piece it together.

I grinned at his efforts, but decided not to leave him hanging. "I work at the Beckford Inn," I told him. "At the bar, usually, or waitressing. But, once or twice a week they have me on stage providing musical entertainment."

He took a long drink of his tea as he processed this. "What, so you sing? Play the piano? What?" He pushed, interested.

"Sing, mostly," I sipped my tea. "I do play guitar from time to time, but there's usually a house band there."

He swept his eyes across my living room before bringing them back to mine. "Where's your guitar?" The grin he was trying to suppress coming to the surface.

I pointed down the hall. "It's in my room," I brought my finger up, realizing where he was going with this, and pointed at him. "Don't even. Baker's don't want to come home after a long day and eat bread."

He leaned back and fixed me with a Cheshire cat grin. "No, but you, a bartender-former-coffeehouse-worker came home and fixed me a drink," he reasoned.

I shook my head, taking our empty mugs and placing them in the sink. "Forget it. You want to hear me sing, you'll have to come down to the Beckford when I'm on."

He put his arms out questioningly. "I work when you work, so how can I do that?" He raised his eyebrows, grin never wavering. When he grinned like this, it made his scars more prominent.

I shrugged, "That's not my problem, Mr. Wild Card Club. Take a night off."

He relented, sensing that he wasn't going to get his way this time. "Alright, alright," he paused, as if considering something. "I'll figure it out," He glanced at the microwave and his eyes widened. "I guess I should probably get over there," he gestured to the door, and in doing so, his apartment on the other side.

I looked at the time, as well. "Holy. Nearly four already? How does that happen?" I walked around the island and followed him the short distance to the door. "Thanks for the company, Jack," I smiled sincerely.

He smiled back, every bit as sincere, and put a hand on my upper arm. "Thanks for the tea, Sugar," he winked before opening the door and exiting, the door closing gently behind him. I quietly put my eye to the peep hole in my door and watched as he unlocked his own door. He turned his head slightly to the left, shaking his head and smiling to himself before he stepped into his apartment and shut the door.

I locked my own door and leaned back against it, biting my lip. 'I guess being too old for a high school crush won't stop you from having one, will it?' I thought to myself before shaking my head roughly. "Come on, now. Twenty-one isn't too old for a crush," I quietly assured myself, walking into the kitchen to clean the dishes. "Besides, I think it might be mutual."

A/N Just had this idea kicking around. It might be terrible! Let me know what you think. Also, when the scars are stated as being faded and barely noticeable, it's because they are. They aren't the same as the scars we're used to yet. That will come in time.


	2. Can I Change Your Mind?

_If the answer is no,_

_Can I change your mind?_

**The Killers - Change Your Mind**

Over the next two weeks, I felt myself growing accustomed to a whole new routine. Jack and I would climb the stairs together when we got home each night. I learned that he mostly worked in the kitchen at the Wild Card Club. Cooking and washing dishes, as well as some general maintenance of the place. I also learned that the reason that we never crossed paths before starting our shifts was because he usually worked ten hour days, where I only worked eight.

Besides our nightly walk home, a cup of tea afterwards had become a part of the routine. Usually at my place, a couple of times at his. The first time I was in his apartment, the meaning of the phrase 'a woman's touch' became apparent, as I saw the drastic differences between his place and mine, despite the layout being basically mirrored. His apartment was clean and orderly, as I had suspected, and it had a definite air of Jack about it, but it wasn't especially personalized.

Jack was twenty-three, an only child (whereas I am the oldest of three), his father deceased (which he didn't talk about in detail, though I got the sense that was more due to bitterness than grief), his mother not in the picture. No immediate family, few friends (fewer close), interested in chemistry and math (which he took some college courses in), similar taste in music (classics, big band stuff, a rare musical interest in people our age). I was impressed. We were learning so much about one another. One thing that I couldn't bring myself to ask him about was how he got the neat little scars on either side of his mouth. I don't know if I felt it would be inappropriate, painful for him to talk about, or just plain none of my business, but I just couldn't bring myself to go there.

One night after our tea, we were sitting in my living room in a comfortable silence. Stanley purring next to Jack, Samson playing with a twist tie on the floor, when Jack broke the silence. "Why haven't you asked? I know you're curious. I've seen you looking."

The sudden sound of his voice made me jump in my chair and I met his eyes across the room. His face was serious, but not upset. "I... I just didn't want to impose or... Or make you uncomfortable or something. I don't know," I explained. Then, I relented. "How did you get the scars, Jack?"

He looked shocked. "I thought you were going to ask how I got to be so sexy! The nerve," he joked with a wink. I had grown accustomed to Jack's awkward humor, so I tossed a pillow at him and laughed. "That's not why they call them throw pillows, Sugar," he chuckled as he deflected the pillow with his hand. Stanley jumped to the back of the sofa and looked insulted.

"Come on, Jack," I insisted. "You brought it up. Are you going to tell me how you got them?" He had peaked my curiosity now, and I really wanted to know.

"I got them when I was a kid," he began. "I was in fourth grade. I lived in a shitty part of town, and some older kids cut across my face with a box-cutter when I accidentally ran into them turning a corner. I screamed from the pain and split my face wide open," his face was thoughtful with the recollection. His eyes on my coffee table as though he could see it transpiring on the wood surface. "That's it. Nothing interesting, really, just some mean kids with a box-cutter. Didn't even leave me with an interesting story to tell," he smiled sadly then, and lifted his eyes to meet mine, which I'm sure were shining with tears, though none fell.

"I'm sorry, Jack," I brought my right hand to my chest. "That must have been terrible."

"It was," he raised his eyebrows as he spoke. "But, it's fine now. Has been for years," the bright smile I was used to reappeared on his face and he sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees, folding his hands and resting his chin on them. "Will ya sing for me now, Sugar?" He grinned widely again as I shook my head and stood up from my chair.

"You know what you have to do, Wild Card," I held out my hand. "Cup?"

Jack scrunched his face in confusion. I rolled my eyes and pointed to his mug on the table next to him. He looked at it, picked it up and, before handing it to me, looked me in the eyes and said: "Mug."

It had been ages since I'd seen my younger sister and my nephew, so when she called out of the blue and asked if I wanted some company, I was all too happy to spend some time with her. My sister, Hallie, was a year younger than me, and got pregnant during her last year of high school. My nephew, Charlie, was eighteen months old, and I hadn't seen him since his first birthday party. They lived in a small apartment close to our parents and brother, Aiden, who was sixteen.

I was in my kitchen making lunch for them when they arrived. I buzzed them up and tearfully hugged the two of them in greeting, instantly feeling guilty for having made no effort to visit them in the past six months. Hallie and I had always been close. We had a lot to catch up on. I set a plate of spaghetti down in front of Hallie, who was sitting in Jack's spot at the island. 'When did it become Jack's spot?' I thought to myself and smiled.

"What are you grinning at, sister-mine?" Hallie asked before shoveling a forkful of the food into her mouth and then offering a bite to Charlie. I met her eyes and my smile grew. "What?" She pushed. "It must be juicy. What are you holding out on me, Kay?" She said through her full mouth.

I grimaced. "Chew, then swallow, then speak, Hallie-bear, our parents raised us better," I chided her. "I think... I'm not sure, but I think I kinda met someone?" I hadn't meant it to come out as a question, but the last couple weeks hadn't defined anything for me and Jack. We were just spending a lot of time together. I know I liked him, and was pretty sure he felt the same way. It felt like he was flirting a lot, but it was sometimes hard to sort the awkward humor from the awkward flirtation.

Hallie's blue eyes widened and she smiled broadly. "Oh, you think, huh? What's he like? What's his name? How, how, how? You gotta tell me, sister, I'm dying for details here!" She threw her head back dramatically and her blonde ponytail bobbed.

I couldn't help but laugh. "He's nice. Name's Jack. Lives in the building. Since the elevator broke, we've been climbing the stairs together. Drinking tea. Things like that. Nothing major. Not even a date yet, but..."

"Yeah, I noticed that," Hallie started. "What's up with that elevator? Do these maintenance people not know how hard it is to carry a growing baby up all those stairs? You must have legs of steel, doing it every night, huh? Or, does Romeo sweep you off your feet and carry you up? Hmm?" She clasped her hands under her chin and waggled her eyebrows at me.

I kicked her stool gently and laughed at her antics. "No, we walk. No sweeping. No carrying. Just walking, talking and tea," I sighed. "Am I being ridiculous and... I don't know... Girlish to read into it like I am? I think he likes me, too, Hal. Guys can be so hard to read."

Pretty Hallie snorted. "Just look down," she said crassly. "And so what if you're girlish, Kaylie? You're a girl. You're allowed to be girlish. Expected to, even. What makes you think he likes you?" She asked, and then pulled her eyebrows together. "More importantly, why the hell wouldn't he? You're a Cameron, woman, own it!" She raised her arms like she'd just won a race.

"We've just been spending so much time together. The way he looks at me sometimes. Smiles at me. I don't know. It's hard to explain," I groaned.

"I'm sure he likes you. He'd be crazy not to. You're gorgeous, talented, intelligent, funny. You're a catch," she shrugged like it was obvious. "Now, tell me the important part. Is he cute?"

I smirked. I had been waiting for that. "He's gorgeous," I gushed. "Blonde, kind of shaggy hair, a nice tan, amazing brown eyes. Great smile," I paused. "He's got these scars on his face. They don't bother me. I barely notice them, anymore. They go out from the corners of his mouth like an extended smile."

Hallie wrinkled her nose. "Yeesh, that sounds awful. What a sin. Sounds like you've got it bad, sister."

I smiled a small smile at her and turned to coo at my nephew, all talk of Jack forgotten for the rest of our visit. They stayed until just after supper. Hallie didn't want to stay after dark, and I couldn't blame her. She called them a cab and they left.

As it was Sunday, I didn't have to work that night. I had just decided to go run a bath and grab a book when there was a knock at my door. I thought maybe Hallie had forgotten something, but was surprised to find Jack's out of breath face smiling at me when I pulled the door open. I paused for a moment, shocked, before smiling back. "Hey, neighbour. Why so wheezy?" I quipped and motioned for him to come in. He obliged.

"Fun-ny, Sugar. I just ran up the stairs, that's why," he chuckled back.

My smile left my face. "What happened?"

"Oh - nothing! Nothing, Kaylie, sorry," he apologized. "Didn't mean to scare ya. I meant I just ran up the stairs because I had to tell you about this great movie I just saw, that's all."

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "Oh, good. You had me worried there for a second, Jack. What's this movie about?" I sat down on the sofa with my back to the arm and pulled my legs up in front of me. Jack sat down next to me, facing me, and leaned in.

"Nevermind that, you'll just have to see it. You off tomorrow? We could go then. My treat," he said. It all came out so fast, I had to blink a couple of times as I processed it. His face grew serious and, almost, hurt. "If you're not interested, just say so."

I met his eyes and knew he wasn't talking about the movie. I smiled sweetly at him and placed my hand on his arm. "I'm interested," I assured him. "Sundays and Mondays, always off. What time works for you?"

He looked kind of surprised, but perked right up. "It's playing at 7:30 at the cinema two blocks over. I could come over and getcha at seven?"

I nodded. "Sounds good. Why not come over a little early and I'll make us something to eat?"

"That's great. I'll come over 5:30, then. Should give us lots of time," his smile never broke. Neither did mine. This was going to be our first date.

A/N Hope you guys are enjoying it! Please review and let me know what you think.


	3. I Feel A Change Comin' On

_We got so much in common_

_We strive for the same old ends_

_And I just can't wait_

_Wait for us to become friends_

_I feel a change comin' on_

_And the fourth part of the day's already gone_

**Bob Dylan - I Feel A Change Comin' On**

I was more nervous than I really should have been. I mean, it's not as though Jack was some suave stranger who approached me at a bar and asked me to go to some fancy restaurant with him. No. This was just Jack. Funny Jack Napier who lived across the hall and who I spent most of my off-the-clock time with, who had asked me to see a movie. Yet, here I was, with a million different outfits in a reject pile on my bed while I continued to rifle fruitlessly through my closet for something to wear. It wasn't even lunch time yet. I had hours before he was going to show up at my door for dinner. I pushed my hair back with both hands and tangled my fingers in the straight, red locks, staring into the closet. This should be easy. Dinner and a movie. With Jack. Casual. I took a deep breath and grabbed a knee-length black skirt with just enough frill around the bottom to move when I walk. As Fall was approaching, and evenings seemed to be growing colder faster, I pulled out a v-neck, burgundy sweater to pair it with. Satisfied with my choices, I hung them on my bathroom door and marched to the kitchen to start putting dinner together.

I settled on something simple. Chicken and veggie stir fry with brown rice. I decided to get all of the ingredients cut up before I went for a shower, that way it would just be a matter of turning on the burner when I got out. Before I started chopping, however, I grabbed my phone, dialed Hallie's number and nestled the phone between my shoulder and my ear.

"Hello?" Her agitated voice called from the other end.

I furrowed my brow. "Hey. Everything alright? You sound perturbed."

She sighed. "Kaylie. Hi. Yeah. You know how I told you yesterday Grady was going to take Charlie for me for a couple days so I could focus on my first few days at school? Well, he bailed on me this morning. I'm going to have to ask Mom and Dad to take him."

Grady. Absentee-father of the year. I winced at the mention of his name. He threw enough money at Hallie to count as support, but was never there when she needed him to be. Hallie's plans to go to school to become a teacher had been put on hold with the unexpected arrival of Charlie, and she was excited to be getting them back on track now. "You know they won't mind, Hal. They love spending time with Charlie. They'd rather that than you have to send him to some daycare."

"I know, I know," she sighed. "I just want to be able to handle these things on my own, y'know? Not have to run to our parents for every little thing. I swear I see 'I-told-you-so' in Mom's eyes everytime I ask for help."

I was beginning to regret my decision to call Hallie, which made me feel bad right away. I shook it down. "You can't do everything yourself, Hal. It takes a village, as the saying goes. It sucks that Grady won't take any responsibility here, but who does that surprise?"

Another sigh. "You're right, sister. Of course you're right. I'm being ridiculous. I should have asked them from the start of it. I'm sorry for unloading at you like that, it's just all so frustrating," I heard her take a deep breath. "So, what were you actually calling me for?"

I paused, then decided to wait to tell her another time. "Oh, it's nothing. Just wanted to talk to my baby sister. Good thing I did call, eh? Seems like you could really use the ear," I chuckled.

"Now, now, Kay. You just spoke to me yesterday. You know you can't lie to me. I can hear it in your voice. Something's up. And I want to know what it is. Come on," she encouraged. "I could use some gossip right now. Spill."

I smiled. Leave it to my sister. "Well, I thought that you'd like to know that my cute neighbour stopped by yesterday after you left and asked me out. Kind of. I think. Well, he definitely asked me out, but I think it's a date... If that makes sense."

"What?" She shrieked into the phone. "That's awesome, Kaylie! Good news is what I wanna hear! And, of course it's a date! Why would it not be a date?"

I shrugged, despite the fact that she couldn't see me. "I don't know. It was very casual. He told me about this great movie that I just had to see, and ended up asking me to go with him today. His treat," I explained. "He's coming here for dinner first."

"For God's sake, Kaylie, you'd have to be high as a kite to see that as anything other than a date. Good for you, sister-mine, it'll do you good to get out," she congratulated me with enthusiasm.

"Thanks," I smiled. "I'm looking forward to it. We've spent so much time together, but never gone anywhere. It will definitely be nice to get out. You know, socially."

"For sure. Ugh," Hallie groaned. "I've gotta go. Charlie's waking up and I should really call Mom and Dad. Thanks for the sympathetic ear, Kaylie. I know I can always count on you to listen. You call me right away after your date. I'll be waiting! I want details, chickie! De-tails!" She punctuated each syllable.

"Yeah, yeah," I laughed at her. "Talk to you later, Hallie."

"Later!" She sing-songed down the phone.

I hung up the phone and finished throwing my ingredients into the frying pan before covering it up and walking to the bathroom. No time like the present to start getting ready. My nerves aren't going to get any better for waiting.

It was five o'clock and dinner was just about ready. After my shower, I decided to put my worries to the back burner and chill out. 'It's just Jack,' I assured myself. I decided to leave most of my hair down, just pulling it away from my face, leaving only a few long wisps behind. I went light on the makeup, not much more than usual, actually, just a bit more liner around my soft brown eyes. I was feeling pretty good about myself when a knock sounded at my door just past 5:15. I smiled to myself. He lives right across the hall. He could have left his place at 5:29 and been on time.

I took one last look at myself in the mirror and a deep breath before opening the door. There he was, signature smile gracing his features, with some sort of small purple flower in his hand. He handed it to me a bit awkwardly. "It's from out front. Rude to come empty handed," he breathed a laugh. I took in his appearance once more, glad to see I wasn't the only one to have made an effort. He was wearing nice (new?) jeans, a blue button down and a navy sport coat. I stepped aside to let him in.

"Thanks, Jack, that's so nice," I was genuinely surprised by the sweet gesture. It also confirmed for me that this was, in fact, a date.

He shut the door behind him. "Smells great!" He exclaimed, bouncing up on the balls of his feet.

"Thanks. Yeah, it does smell pretty good. It's ready, too, if you wanna sit down. I'll dish it out," I smiled softly and moved to the stove. Jack took his usual spot at the island. I could feel his eyes on me and glanced back at him before turning back around and uncovering the pot. "What?" I asked nervously, my back still to him.

He cleared his throat, in that Jack way of his, and I could picture his hand coming up to cover his mouth. As I got to know him better, it seemed like an almost nervous gesture, meant to prepare himself for what he was about to say. "You look beautiful," he blurted. "I mean, you always do. I'm sure you know but..." He sighed. "I just thought I should say so."

I set his bowl down infront of him and smiled, not sure what to say. "Thank you," I smoothed my skirt nervously. "So do you. Well, handsome. You know," I blushed (it happens so damn easily to us redheads!). "Always."

He grinned at me as he took a mouthful off his fork and nodded a thanks. We chatted a bit as we ate and there was time to clean up before leaving, which he helped me with.

I excused myself and went to get my purse. When I came back out, Jack was petting Stanley (who he'd taken to calling 'my cat' as they'd bonded during our tea-time chats) by the window. "Ready?" I asked quietly. He turned with one of his brilliant smiles.

"Ready."

The walk to the cinema was fairly uneventful. It was still light out, the sun just starting to go down. There was a nice breeze, though it was warm enough yet to make me happy with my choice to not wear a coat. Jack and I, as always, kept ourselves entertained with fairly mindless chatter about this and that, people we passed, things we saw, and sounds we heard. We never seemed to be bored around one another, keeping each other talking and laughing the whole merry way to the cinema.

True to his word, Jack bought the tickets. Shooting a glare at me when I went to open my purse. He also got us a popcorn to share, though we barely touched that, still too full from dinner. The movie was good, though it paled in comparison to the company (I think to both of us). Thankfully, the theatre we were in was nearly empty, so our occasional chit chat and giggles was to the annoyance of nobody. He dumped the popcorn on the way out and cocked his elbow at me with a dramatic bow of his head. "Madam?" He said, failing to supress the laugh in his voice.

I courtsied. "Sir," I replied with a giggle, as I wrapped my arm in his. We were laughing still as we walked away from the cinema. Our mood jovial enough that we didn't seem to notice or care that it had grown dark in the narrows, with it being nearly 9:30, and a chill graed the air with the sun gone.

We continued our walk back to the apartment building arm in arm, talking and laughing about anything and everything, when we heard a voice up ahead of us. Jack heard it first and stopped, pulling be back to him quickly as he hushed me.

"Hey... Hey!" Called the voice. "Yeah, I heard you comin'. Yeah, I see ya. What you two doin' out here all alone a night like this?" Slurred the man, clearly intoxicated. He was far enough ahead of us that it shouldn't have been too much trouble to cross the road and hurry to where I get off the bus before crossing back to our building, but I didn't think of that at the time, and just stood there, stunned, clung onto Jack's arm.

I saw Jack squint in the direction of the man, as if trying to assess something in the dim light. After a moment, he smiled down at me and nodded, but I wasn't sure why. Then he started walking again, gently pulling me along with him as he went. I tried to stay a pace behind him, but with our arms locked as they were, this proved difficult, and we wound up walking side by side, anyway.

As we got closer to the mumbling man, I saw why Jack had nodded. The man wasn't just intoxicated, he was smash-faced drunk. I relaxed into Jack a little bit, though still not at ease with the situation, as we started around the drunk.

"Da fuck you doin', motha fucka?" He cursed. "Don't ignore me! I'm talkin' a you," he made a grab past Jack for my arm, but Jack was quick to grab the man by the wrist and throw his arm away.

"We don't want any trouble, Sir," Jack began in a low voice. "Just let us by so we can get home, and neither one of us needs to get any," I was surprised to hear the threatening tone to Jack's voice, but in the situation, it was very comforting. This is a side of Jack there had never been cause to see before. I was glad that, when the situation presented itself, he could put away Smiley-Jack and handle himself.

The man reached into a pocket with his rejected hand, "Bitch, you din't want no trouble, you should stayed the fuck indoors, then!" He pulled a knife out of his pocket and lunged for Jack, who simultaneously pushed me away, while side-stepping the man and sending him rolling to the concrete with a kick. "Ah! You motha fucka..." The drunk man rambled.

Jack kept his foot on the man for a moment, pinning him to the ground as he spoke. "Now, I told you, we don't want any trouble," his voice had taken on a slightly higher tone, likely due to the excitement and sudden exertion. "You just give me this," he reached down and easily wrestled the knife from the man's hand. "And we'll be on our way." Jack pointed the knife towards the man as if punctuating the sentence before pocketing it and spitting on the ground near the man before giving him a final push with his boot and turning to me. "You alright?" He touched my arm gently, a concerned look on his face. I just nodded and smiled to reassure him. "C'mon," he put his arm over my shoulders and pulled me into him as we turned to finish our walk home. The walk was brisk and mostly quiet, with Jack looking back over his shoulder every now and then, to make sure the man hadn't followed.

When we reached our floor, with both of us standing in the hallway between our doors, I wasn't sure what the appropriate thing to do was. We'd had a great date, which ended on a bit of a scary, but ultimately successful, note. As I was pulling my keys out of my purse, I thought 'I'm sure we could both use a drink,' so I invited him in. Pointing with my keys towards my apartment, I spoke. "Drink?" I asked, simply. Jack just nodded and followed closely behind me, closing and locking the door behind him.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "You sure you're alright?" I smiled at him, hoping that'd be enough. It wasn't. He kept his narrowed eyes on mine until I answered.

"I'm fine Jack. Are you? I mean, that seemed like a pretty close call back there..." I trailed off, shaking my head. "The man tried to stab you, we should probably have called the police."

Jack finally took his eyes off me and shook his head. "Nah. Police in this town, they're too busy worrying about real stabbings. No time for attempted ones, Sugar." He winked at me. "And, as for that being a close call, Kay, that was nothing. That man couldn't have hit the broad side of a barn, as drunk as he was. I walk back here from farther, later, every night. I've encountered some freaks. He wasn't one," Jack shook his head. "No. He was just a sad, drunk old man. Put it out of your head," he came slowly around the island when I didn't answer him, and reached out gently, as though trying not to scare a timid animal, and cupped my face in his hands. "How 'bout that drink? A double for the lady," he winked again with that smile of his, and everything felt okay again. That man was just another drunk in the Narrows.

I poured myself a shot of whiskey (single!), and gestured towards Jack with the bottle. He nodded, so I poured him one as well. He held his shot glass out towards me with a cheeky grin. "To free knives!" I rolled my eyes and clinked glasses with him before we both downed our shots.

I pointed to his coat as he removed it. "What was with that knife, anyway? It was kind of weird looking."

Jack fished in his pocket with a confused look on his face. "Was it?" he asked, finally finding the knife and setting it on the counter. Sure enough. It looked like someone had taken a vegetable peeler and sharpened it, but it was actually made that way. It was ugly looking. "Hmm... That is odd," Jack picked the knife back up and turned it in his hand before his face to get a closer look. "Maybe I should start a collection?" He joked, putting the knife back in his coat pocket. He tapped his shot glass on the counter top as a way of asking for another shot. I poured us each one.

"Maybe you should just start carrying that one with you at night," I suggested, downing my whiskey. "Just a thought."

Jack shot his whiskey, then swirled the remaining drop in the glass thoughtfully, considering it. "Nah," he finally said, swigging the last drop before pulling the knife back out and pushing it towards me on the counter. "You should. I'd feel better knowing you're safe between the bus stop and me," his eyes were serious, and something about the look in them made me pick the knife up wordlessly and drop it into my purse. He nodded, satisfied that I hadn't argued with him, then he took the bottle of whiskey from the countertop and poured us each a third shot. "One more," he smiled as he raised his glass to eye level.

"One more," I agreed, mirroring his actions. With a 'clink,' we both downed our shots.

A/N - Wow, guys, thanks for the reviews, fave's and follows. It's really appreciated. Here's the first date! Let me know what you think :-)


	4. Don't Change A Thing For Me

_Don't change for you,_

_Don't change a thing for me._

**INXS - Don't Change**

I awoke face down on my sofa. Opening one eye, I could see Samson staring at me from the coffee table. He offered a 'mrow' in greeting before hopping down and skittering into the computer room, indicating breakfast time. I stood up groggily and stretched. Groggy and stiff, but, as usual, no hangover. I looked down at myself, relieved to find that I was still fully clothed, though at some point through the night, I must have thrown my sweater off, as it was discarded on the back of my chair and I was wearing only the camisole I'd had underneath. Laughing to myself that I had gone and passed out drunk on my first date with Jack, I padded into the computer room to feed the cats. I jolted with a gasp when I heard a groan from the old sofa along the far wall of the room. Jack crashed here? Why? I shook my head and quietly fed the cats, not wanting to wake him. He may not be as lucky as me in the hangover department, so I thought it best to let him sleep.

I looked at him a moment. He was on his side, facing the back of the sofa, his face buried in the corner. I smiled to myself when I saw the reason for his groan, Stanley, pull himself to the back of the sofa, from where he had been sleeping between Jack and the sofa back. His cat, indeed. Giving Stan a pat, I turned and headed to the kitchen. May as well make breakfast, seeing I am up. If Jack's up to eating when he wakes it will be ready for him. I glanced at the clock on the microwave, which read 10:24am. I reached into the fridge to pull out the eggs and sausages as snippets of the night before came back to my memory.

_"Ah, fuck it! four more, c'mon, Sugar, we'd may as well finish off the bottle at this point," Jack reasoned. We were many shots in - to be honest, I don't trust Jack's count on that - and what had been a full bottle of whiskey was now a mere two shots at the bottom, waiting to be poured._

_I laughed and waved my hand at him, shaking my head, leaning forward and nearly tumbling even further to the floor, which I was already sitting on. "That's not fair, Jack," I admonished him. "I think you're just trying to get me drunk!" I took my sweater off and threw it in the direction of the chair, hoping it'd find it's mark._

_"Well, now, I'd call that mission a complete success, then," he raised the bottle. "To celebrate, a shot!" _

_He poured the remaining whiskey into our shot glasses and sat down in front of me on the floor, holding mine out to me. I narrowed my eyes at him, but relented, taking the glass. With a grimace and a final 'clink,' we both tossed the gold liquid into our mouths with a satisfying, breathy "Ah!" Jack set his glass and the bottle on the coffee table and twisted himself so that he could lean his back against the sofa. He smiled at me with sleepy eyes and put his left arm out. I grinned back at him and skidded into place under his arm, which he dropped to my shoulders as I turned myself to sit next to him. _

_"This was a good time, Sugar," he said quietly. "Long time coming."_

_I nodded. "A bit better than two weeks. Not too bad to get a first date set up."_

_He turned to look at me. "First date? No, no, no, no. No, Sugar, this is our second date. And it's been just about two weeks between date one," he moved his hand infront of him as if drawing a line between two points. "And date two."_

_I looked back at him, confused, and closed my eyes, "Wait, so, what was our first date, then?"_

_He mocked insult, clutching his right hand to his chest. "I can't believe you've forgotten already! The second night we met? You practically begged me to come in for tea? I think that counts."_

_I glared at him, "That... So does not count," I waved my arm infront of myself. "If it did, wouldn't this, then, be... like, our fifteenth or sixteenth date? If tea after work counts?" I raised my eyebrows._

_"No, not every one counts. Just that first one," he explained. "You were so adament," he exaggerated with a knowing smirk._

_"Whatever, Jack," I laughed, turning back to lean against the sofa again, his arm relaxing over my shoulders once more. "So, if this is date two, when does the first kiss happen?" I looked to his face without turning my head, wanting to gauge his reaction. _

_He tensed momentarily before turning his head and looking at me, leaning forward slightly and pulling his left arm back, so his hand was on my right shoulder. "No surprising you, is there?" He said, softly, before turning my face to his with his right hand and slowly bringing his face to mine, to catch my lips in a slow, sensual kiss, that would have knocked me to the ground had I not been there already. He pulled back and looked me in the eye._

_"I'm surprised," I whispered breathily, putting my hand on his neck and pulling him back in for a second kiss._

I reddened slightly at the memory, as I scrambled the eggs next to the frying sausages. I turned to put two slices of toast in the toaster and heard the 'thud' of Jack's feet hitting the floor in the next room. When I heard him walk into the hall, I called quietly to him. "Coffee?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder to smile at him. He sleepily smiled back and nodded, rubbing his eyes with one hand and stretching with the other. He still had his jeans on, though his button down was open revealing a white wife-beater.

"Hope you don't mind I crashed," he said, sitting down in his usual spot at the island. "You passed out on the sofa, and I didn't want to go over there and leave your door unlocked," he explained.

"I don't mind at all," I assured him, setting a cup of coffee down in front of him. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired," he raised his eyebrows with a wide smile. "Hungry now that I'm smelling that food. Good, though. Very good."

"Good," I said, turning my back to him so I could pick up our breakfast. Setting the plates down on the island and sitting down across from him, I noticed a peculiar look in his eye. "What's up?"

He smiled slightly and took a bite of his toast. "You are beautiful, you know."

I turned red and looked down, embarassed smile on my face.

"You are, don't look away," he put his toast down and stood up, lifting my chin with his other hand. I met his eye. "Beautiful," he caressed my cheek with his thumb before sitting back down, looking at his food with a mischeivous grin. "So, when's date number three?"

I reached over and shoved his shoulder gently. "Sometime after date number two," I replied with a wink.

He glared at me jokingly, still smirking, before continuing to eat. The rest of breakfast was eaten mostly in silence, with the occasional random chatter happening, as always. As I started clearing away the dishes and cleaning up, Jack disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, and then came out with his coat in hand. "Heading over?" I asked him.

He nodded in reply, coming to stand by the island, knocking gently on it twice. He looked in thought. I stopped what I was doing and looked up at him. He came alive as though he'd never paused and rounded the island, coming to a stop again in front of me. He brought his left hand up to push my hair over my shoulder and pulled me into him with his right hand on my lower back. "Thanks for breakfast, Sugar," he said, his voice rough, before bringing his face down to mine and delivering the most passionate, intimate kiss I'd ever experienced. When he was done, he smiled that smile of his at me, turned, walked to the door, and winked before walking into the hall, closing the door gently behind him as he went.

I smiled to myself before turning to carry on with the cleaning up. As I was finishing, I went to wipe down the countertops, and next to my microwave was the flower he'd given me the night before. Picking it up, I rolled one of the soft petals between my thumb and forefinger. 'I guess I'm wearing purple on the stage tonight,' I thought to myself, before rushing to my closet to find a dress that would work.

It didn't take long. As soon as I opened my closet door, my eyes fell on the long, chiffon number in two shades of purple, one matching the flower exactly. It fell in layers, it's longest reaching the floor, and had one strap reaching up over my right shoulder. Purple and green vines were embroidered along the strap and curved gently just below the bustline. It was perfect. I beamed at the choice, hanging it up outside the bathroom door for when I had to get ready for work.

I puttered around the apartment most of the day. Cleaning up, moving some things around, just to keep busy and pass the time. I opted to wait to call Hallie until tomorrow, as she would just be done her first day of school, and we'd both have, presumably, fun news to share. The day passed fairly quickly, just the same, and the time came to get ready for work.

I showered quickly, blowing my hair dry and deciding on an elegant chignon, with lots of twists, pulled to the right side of my head and situated the flower in the top centre of the bun. It looked great. With the details on the dress, a necklace wasn't necessary, but I went with some dangly, pale green earrings to compliment the green in the embroidery. As usual, I went light with the makeup, the only addition was a sweep of green eye shadow over my eyelids. The look was complete, and I was beyond satisfied. Tuesdays aren't usually a busy night at the hotel, but that didn't matter to me. Sometimes, it's just nice to be a girl.

By the time I was done getting ready, it was time to head to work. I grabbed my long, old, black leather trenchcoat to pull over the dress, hoping to shield the look (you never want to look 'well off' in the Narrows) and protect the dress from the elements. It was looking a bit grey out there, and headed to my bus stop with a smile on my face.

...

A/N Thanks, again, to everyone reading this story. I'm having lots of fun with it. Hope this chapter was to your liking, even if a little bit short.


	5. The Winds Of Changes Shift

_May your hands always be busy_

_May your feet always be swift_

_May you have a strong foundation_

_When the winds of changes shift_

_May your heart always be joyful_

_And may your song always be sung_

_May you stay forever young_

**Bob Dylan - Forever Young**

I arrived at the hotel just in time for the sky to open up and silently praised the busses for their timing. It looked to be your typical Tuesday, not a packed house, but a few guests sitting down for the supper hour. The band was playing some slow, quiet swing number to warm up. I swept my eyes over the room and stopped on Ern, short for Ernest, the fabulous bar manager. I smiled at him as I removed my coat and hung it over my arm. His eyes widened as he took in my attire.

"Gor-geous!" He sing-songed as he threw his arms in the air and met me as I approached the bar. "You are stunning. New dress?"

I shook my head. "No, I've worn it before. Maybe you weren't here. I haven't gotten to buy a new dress in ages."

"Maybe it's how you have your hair," he mused, touching his hand to the flower. "You usually wear it down. I like this. So pretty," he wrinkled his nose with a grin.

"Thanks," I started heading towards the back stage area, to a door with the bold letters 'Employees Only!' in gold across it at eye level. "I'm going to go hang this up," I lifted my coat. "Then I'm ready. Looks like it might be a busier night."

"Yeah, Tuesdays are picking up," I heard Ern's voice all after me. "See you up there, Kay-Kay."

Backstage, I hung my coat up before sitting down at my mirror to check and touch up my makeup. As usual, there was a list of songs on the desk for me to review. With a quick glance, I confirmed that I had performed all of them before and looked at the time. I was due on in four minutes so I went to the edge of the stage and waited for my introduction. I didn't have to wait long, as Ern (who played MC, also) came to the stage and picked up a microphone.

"Aren't they great ladies and gentlemen?" He gestured to the band. "Let's hear it for our wonderful musicians!" He led the small crowd in applause. "Joining these talented people, now, is a lady who, for some of you, won't need any introduction at all. Her voice has been known to the Beckford now for quite some time. But for those of you who are unfamiliar; boy, are you in for a treat tonight. It is my pleasure, as always, to welcome to the stage Ms. Kaylie Cameron!"

I smiled brightly as I joined Ern and the band on stage, taking my own microphone in my hands, and accepted a warm hug from Ern. I thanked him as he left the stage and nodded to the band that I was ready to start the show. Tapping my toe to count, I started right into 'All of Me,' the band immediately following my lead. And so, the night had begun.

I could hardly keep myself from smiling as I was on my first thirty minute break of the evening. The first portion of the night had gone very well, with the crowd getting larger over the course of two hours. They seemed to really be enjoying the show, some of them singing along with familiar tunes, tapping their toes, and just generally having a good time. Ern was right, Tuesdays were picking up. I finished eating my apple and went back to wait at the edge of the stage. As Ern was quite busy at the bar, the band's bassist, Leo, brought me back to the stage. "Put your hands together once again for our girl, Kaylie!" I took my place again with a smile, before we quickly broke into 'I Heard It Through The Grapevine,' many people singing along to the classic tune.

About halfway through our third song of the second set, which was 'Feeling Good,' I noticed a familiar face sitting alone at the back of the room, a cocky smirk on his face. I felt my face reddened, though thankfully, my voice didn't waver, as I continued singing the song. For the rest of the set, my eyes kept finding my way back to Jack as he watched me on stage with an unreadable expression. He clapped at the end of each song, and smirked whenever our eyes met, but besides that, he was still. I took in his attire; he was wearing a nice, charcoal suit and a green shirt. He looked good. Very good.

Ten o'clock couldn't have come more slowly. But finally, my one hour break had arrived. Thankfully, by then Wendy was there to help Ern at the bar, so I was able to get his attention to come to the back as I left the stage. "What's up, Buttercup?" He said cheerfully. "You're killin' it out there!"

"Yeah, thanks," I said, more dismissively than I had intended. "Listen, did you serve a guy with scars?" I traced my cheeks with my finger to indicate where.

"Yeah, I did, actually. Cute one. Good tipper. Why do you ask?" He raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"I know him. Can you send him back? Or get someone to?" I asked nervously.

"You know the rules about bringing toys to work, Kay," he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "But, seeing you haven't broken this particular rule yet, I'll bend."

I rolled my eyes. "It's not like that, Ernie," I emphasized his hated nickname with a smile. "I just want to talk to him."

"Watch it, girlie, or I'll have you waiting tables for a month," he threatened amusingly. "I'll send him your way," he patted my shoulder before exiting.

I stood behind the door, wringing my hands anxiously. I hadn't expected him to actually come see me perform. Least of all this soon. His presence and especially his nearly blank expression making the stage feel more alien to me than it ever had. I didn't have to wait long before hearing a gentle knock at the door. I pulled it open and there was Jack, smirk still in place. "Surprised to see me?" He asked, the smirk also present in his voice.

"Yes! Why did you come?" The question came out more harshly than I meant for it to, but that smirk was making me so damn nervous. It left his face at my tone.

"You mad? I wanted to hear you sing. I got the night off, I figured that was the only way it was going to happen. Thought I'd surprise you," he smiled then. "Not one for surprises?"

I relaxed a bit then, realizing that his smirk had simply been because he was pleased with himself for pulling off this surprise, and felt a little guilty for my rude reaction. "It's not that. I just wasn't expecting to see you, that's all. Are-" I paused. "Are you enjoying it?"

His smile widened. "Of course! It's great. You look amazing. Sound... Wow. I figured you must be good, but this goes beyond anything I was expecting," he leaned down closer to my face. "You have no idea how much effort it took not to jump up on my chair and cheer you on."

Not thinking, I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. I heard a startled laugh catch in his throat before he returned the hug. "Thanks, Jack. I am glad you came," I pulled back, but kept my arms on his shoulders, hands clasped behind his neck. "I promise I won't bite your head off again, should you want to surprise me in the future."

"Good to know," he replied. He took the opportunity to surprise me once again with a kiss. He came in quickly, but lingered, the kiss sweet and sensual. Suddenly, he lurched forward and broke the kiss, our noses bumping together. I squeaked in surprise bringing my hand to my nose before looking over his shoulder and seeing Ern standing there, a smirk now in place on his face, 'I-told-you-so' singing in his eyes. He was holding a plate of food I always got at my dinner break.

"What language is that, sweetie?" He asked innocently, holding the plate out to me. I took it, but scowled at him. "There you go. This whole back room, and here you are standing right next to the main entrance? Move along, kids."

I looked at Jack, who was trying not to laugh, holding his nose and avoiding looking at Ern, who was on his way back out the door. When he heard the door close, he let the laugh out quietly. "You're lucky to have a boss like that," he chuckled.

"Thanks for reminding me," I said, turning to head towards a small break table, gesturing with my head for Jack to follow me. "I was beginning to forget. Hungry?" I put my plate down in the middle of the table. There was an assortment of fresh cut veggies, fruit, and chicken tenders. "I never eat it all." Jack responded by grabbing a couple of carrots. "How long are you staying for?"

"Oh, ma'am, I'm not staying here. I just came for the entertainment," he winked. I glared at him, trying not to smile. "Okay, okay," he sighed, putting his hands up in defense. "I figured I'd stay until you're done and we could have our tea before going home tonight. I'm sure you know there's a nice twenty-four hour joint a couple blocks away."

I couldn't help but smile. "That sounds nice, Jack. It'll be our second-"

"Third!"

"Date," I finished, ignoring his interruption.

"How long have you been working here?" Jack asked, popping a cherry tomato into his mouth.

"I've worked here for three years," I told him. "But I only started bartending and singing last year after I turned 21. I could only work until ten waitressing before then."

Jack nodded, and we carried on chatting as we ate. I let Jack know when my break was almost over and he stood holding his hand out so I could hand him the plate. "I'll see you out there," he said before going for the door.

"Watch out for Ern out there," I warned him. "He already thinks you're cute, and after seeing our little display back here, now he knows you're easy," I giggled.

Jack narrowed his eyes and mouthed 'Cute?' before shaking his head and walking out. I filled a glass with fresh water before going to my spot at the edge of the stage to wait once again for my cue.

At the third set of the night, the crowd was larger than it had been all night, and everyone was enjoying themselves. We played through another two hours until one o'clock, and by that point, tables were beginning to clear and people were starting to head out. Ern got off at midnight, leaving Wendy to tend the bar. The kitchen closed when Ern left, and the two wait staff on duty were just carting drinks to tables and cleaning up empties. I took my final break, a fifteen minute breather, at one, starting to get both tired and excited for my second official date with Jack. I only had three more songs to sing before I had to help Wendy close down the bar (which usually involved accepting compliments and turning down invites to guest rooms), and then we'd be off.

I sang my last songs to a small crowd of around fifteen people, ending with 'Forever Young,' with some backup singing by a small table of jovial half-drunks near the stage. Afterwards, I took my bows, expressed my genuine appreciation for the small standing ovation from the remaining patrons, and bid farewell to the band, who left right after putting their gear away.

I went to the bar to help Wendy, setting my coat at the end of the counter. "What're you doing, Kay?" Wendy regarded me with confusion, wiping up some spilled drops of unidentifiable liquor. "Ern said you're takin' off with Pacino over there?"

"Pacino?" I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"Scarface," she smirked, oblivious to the black look I gave her. Wendy wasn't a mean-spirited woman, but she was brash and her humor wasn't always appreciated.

"That's not nice, Wendy," I scolded. "He's a great guy."

"I didn't say otherwise," she shrugged. "Either way, you," she waved her towel at me and grinned. "Get on outta here. I can handle this tonight. I'm giving April a lift home, we'll take care of it," she pointed her thumb towards one of the waitresses on the floor.

I looked around the bar. It wasn't in too much of a mess. It really wouldn't take them long, and I never, ever left early. I smiled, picking up my coat before giving Wendy's arm a quick squeeze. "Thanks, Wendy. This is really great of you," I said sincerely. She rolled her eyes and waved me off.

I walked out from behind the counter and walked towards Jack, who looked at me with a puzzled expression. "Ready?" I asked him.

He stood up. "I thought you stayed behind to close up?"

"Yeah, I usually do," I explained. "But Ern told them to send me off early so we could get going."

We started walking towards the door. "You're lucky to have a boss like that," Jack repeated his sentiment from earlier.

I pulled my coat on, tying the belt but leaving it unbuttoned after noticing the rain had stopped for the time being. "Yeah, I remember," I said, grinning up at him.

Reg, our doorman/bouncer/occasional DJ/whatever needs to be done guy, opened the door for us as we were leaving. "You have a good night, Kaylie. Sir."

"Thanks, Reg," I said as we walked out. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure thing, sweetie," he smiled before closing the door.

Jack, ever the gentleman, offered me his arm again, which I took as we walked along the still-wet sidewalk. "You and those shoes," he chuckled, able to see my feet now that I was holding up the skirt of my dress to keep it from getting wet.

I followed his gaze and laughed under my breath. "Yeah, I know. Highly impractical, but oh-so pretty," I justified. And, they were. They were strappy and the same green as was in the vines on my dress. Not too tall, just two inch heels. Jack shook his head. "What? I can walk fine in them. I have never fallen thanks to wearing heels."

"Fair enough," he conceded. "I guess the practical option for this weather would have been rubber boots, and those wouldn't have looked right, I suppose."

"Exactly," I nodded.

"Your voice is incredible," he praised. "Why would you never sing for me before?"

I shrugged. "I've always found it strange singing to one or two people. It's too..." I searched for the right word. "I don't know... Intimate? Maybe. Personal's not the right word, either, but do you know what I mean?"

"I think so," he nodded.

"Awkward. Maybe that's the word. Awkward," I decided.

"Well, now that I've heard you, you don't need to feel awkward about it in the future," he suggested, smirking. "Plus, I imagine you sing a whole different style when it's just you and that guitar of yours, don't you?"

I smiled at his continued efforts to get a one-on-one performance out of me. "Sometimes," I admitted. "Maybe you'll find out one of these days."

"Sugar, I plan to make it my mission in life," he joked, placing his right hand over his heart. I gently nudged him with my shoulder as we walked. "Here we are," he stopped in front of a small coffee shop and opened the door for me. I smirked.

"'Who drinks tea at a coffee shop?'" I mimicked his expression from our first tea 'date,' walking through the door.

He shrugged and grinned. "Hey, I don't sound like that. You got the tone all wrong, Sugar," he followed me inside and walked to the counter. "We'll have two large teas, please. Both with milk. And, in one, could you put one thousand spoonfuls of sugar?"

I rolled my eyes at Jack and met the eyes of the unamused, middle aged man at the cash register. "Three," I corrected, holding up three fingers. "Just three."


	6. Change Me Tonight

A/N - Warning, guys, this chapter has some mature content.

_Change me tonight_

_Don't be afraid_

_If you have to break me_

_Change me now_

_Into anything you need._

**Chris Cagle - Change Me**

We drank our tea fairly quickly, while chatting and giggling more than we should have been. Something about the empty cafe and the grumpy server brought out the obnoxious two-year-olds in us and I am sure he was happy to see us go. As we were walking back to my usual bus stop to go home, Jack surprised me by hailing a cab. "What kind of gentleman would I be if I took my lovely date home on the bus?" He explained with a wink to my puzzled expression.

Between being able to leave work early, and taking a cab instead of the bus, we wound up making it home not much later than we normally would have. As we approached our doors, I paused to ask Jack if he was coming in. He shook his head. "Nah. We've already had our tea," he grinned and took me by the elbow suddenly. "I have an idea. C'mon," I followed him back to the stairwell and up the several flights of stairs to our roof, pushing hard on the stiff door to open it. "Ladies first," he bowed.

I stepped out onto the roof with him right behind me, only pausing to wedge a brick in the door to keep it open. "It's really pretty up here," I looked up at the sky.

"Yeah," Jack agreed, but when I looked at him, his eyes were on mine, not the sky at all. He walked up to me and pulled me towards him. We silently started to dance together on the roof, to the sounds of the city and the rhythm of our heartbeats. I rested my head on his shoulder so I could still look at the stars. I was surprised that the sky was so clear in the city tonight, given the weather we'd been having earlier. We continued to spin and sway, Jack humming quietly to himself a vaguely familiar tune. "You cold?"

I had barely noticed the shiver that had passed through my body, but now that he mentioned it, I was cold. Weather it was the dampness still lingering in the air or the cool wind blowing past us on the roof, or a combination thereof, even through my coat I was chilly. "Little bit."

"Wanna go back down?" He mumbled into my hair.

I shook my head. "Not really. But we probably should. It's only going to get colder.

He pressed a kiss to my head. "Okay. Let's go," he let go of me and took my hand, leading me back to the door.

Before I knew it we were back at our doors, but I still didn't want the night to end. "Want to come in?"

Jack pulled his eyebrows together. "We've had our tea," he repeated.

"I know," I said, unlocking the door and going inside.

Jack followed me closely, quietly closing and locking the door behind him. He turned to me and slowly strode towards me. He tilted my head up with his index finger under my chin and brought his lips to mine. He deepened the kiss and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling my lower body into his, his hand on my lower back. I gasped into his mouth at the hardness I felt press into my hip, and realized we both wanted the same thing. I took my coat off and tossed it aside, leading Jack down the hall towards my bedroom, never breaking the kiss. I started helping him off with his coat, which fell heavy to the floor behind him as he walked.

We didn't stop walking until the back of my legs hit my bed, Jack's hand on my back keeping me from falling backwards. Our lips parted momentarily and he looked hungrily into my eyes, taking one small step backwards. I brought my hands up and started unbuttoning his green shirt. Jack touched his hand to my hair and easily plucked the slightly-wilting flower from it, twirling it between his fingers, smiling, before tossing it onto my bedside table and reaching back to my hair to remove the two clips holding it in place. It fell past my shoulders and down my back as I pulled Jack's shirt off of his shoulders.

Once his shirt was off, he pulled his white wife-beater over his head, revealing a toned chest under taut, tanned skin. I softly traced my fingers down across his chest and back over his shoulders to pull him in for another kiss, gripping his naked upper body to mine, the heat from his skin warming the exposed skin of my chest and shoulder. Reaching around my body, his fingers found the zipper of my dress, pulling it down agonizingly slowly. He lifted his face from mine and brought his hand to the strap of my dress. Looking to my eyes he smiled before sliding the strap off my shoulder and allowing the dress to fall to the floor, leaving me in my purple strapless bra and boy-shorts. I allowed him to rake his eyes from the floor upwards to mine before I stepped back into his arms to resume our kiss.

Jack chuckled in his throat and lifted me up with his arms encircling my waist. I wrapped my legs around his as he carried me to the bed, lowering me onto it and following me on his knees as I backed up a bit towards the headboard. I sighed in frustration and took the opportunity to throw my hair behind my shoulders as Jack once again broke the kiss. He reached behind me once more with both hands and unclasped my bra, freeing my breasts as he dropped it to the floor. I felt my face start to redden, which deepened as Jack slowly shook his head once back and forth, and then kissed down my neck, to my shoulder and across my collarbone.

He kissed his way down my chest between my breasts, all the way to my belly button. His hands followed along, grazing down my sides with his fingertips, caressing the sensitive sides of my breasts on his way down. My breathing quickened slightly in anticipation as his fingers reached my panties. He teased my panty line and grinned up at me before hooking his fingers into the waistband and tugging them down, past my knees, down my calves and, finally, off my feet. He stood at the foot of my bed, taking in my naked form. Meeting my eyes once again, he began to unbutton his pants. He bent down as he pulled them off, and when he stood again, I saw that he had taken his boxers down with them and now was naked before me.

My breath caught in my throat as I took in his gorgeous form. He was erect and generous in size. His well-muscled legs flexed as he stepped out of his pants, kicking them to the side (along with his socks, I noticed) and then he lowered himself back to his knees over me on the bed. I allowed him to crawl up to me between my legs and he kissed me passionately. Suddenly remembering what we were about to do, I started fumbling with my right hand for my bedside table drawer, trying not to end the kiss. Seeing this, Jack opened the drawer with his left hand and easily found the box of condoms, taking them out and setting them on the table before sliding the drawer back closed. He took one of the square, foil packets out of the box and tore it open with his teeth, discarding the wrapper on the table next to the box. Next, his hand went down between us and he rolled the condom onto his length, before using that same hand to stroke my slick folds.

I moaned and shot my hand between us, surprising him as I took his cock and urgently began to guide him towards me. Following my lead, he took himself in his own hand and placed the head at my entrance, glancing to my eyes and seeing only desire and certainty in them, he slowly sank into me, not stopping until he was fully enveloped in me. He released a shaky breath and kissed me before he began to move within me. I kept one foot on the bed, my knee up, and wrapped my other leg around him, matching his slow, steady thrusts.

It didn't take us long before we found a rhythm and started to speed up as we both neared climax. Jack had one hand next to my head on the pillow and the other gripped my ass and thigh, helping me to meet his movements. I had a hand on his side and the other on his arm by my head. We were both panting, moaning quietly, appreciating one another and totally absorbed in our own pleasure. Time seemed to freeze and we were the only people moving. Moving together to keep our worlds spinning. Our pace quickened and I began to cry out as I felt the waves of pleasure begin to ripple through my body. Jack came tumbling after with a final thrust and a low grunt in his throat before stilling himself above me as we both gasped for air.

Intense wasn't really strong enough to describe it, but as I can't think of a more appropriate word, that is the one I will use. It was intense. It took some time before either of us moved, but eventually, I felt Jack shift and pull himself out of me slowly. The action wreaking havoc on our sensitive bodies. He removed and tied the condom, dropping it into the half-full wastebasket on the floor before rolling off of me onto his back, his head facing mine as I still looked to the ceiling, breath still coming in uneven gasps. I lowered my legs before turning my head towards him so I could look into his eyes. A smile played on his face as he reached across us to push some of my hair from my sweaty forehead, his hand falling back to his side afterwards.

I smiled at him, as well, and as our breathing finally started evening out, I felt myself, in pure ecstasy, starting to laugh airily. Turning my body towards him as well and propping my head up onto my hand. Jack mirrored this action and a low rumble began in his throat and before we knew it, we were both laughing joyfully, touching, teasing, and kissing one another into slumber.

...

I awoke to the sound of my toilet flushing, reaching behind me to find the space Jack had occupied empty and warm. The tenderness between my thighs reminded me of what had taken place the night before and I smiled into my pillow. I looked up when Jack appeared in the door wearing his boxers. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"What time is it?" I leaned back into him as he crawled back into bed behind me, wrapping an arm tightly around my middle.

"Early," he replied, his mouth close to my ear. "Go back to sleep."

Ignoring him, I reached behind myself and tugged gently on the leg of his boxers. "I seem to be at a bit of a disadvantage here."

Jack rolled me onto my back and leaned over me, a sexy grin on his tired face. "Oh, is that how it seems?" He teased, gently pinching my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, working it to a hard point before running his hand down my chest and stomach. His fingers found their way to my already wet center and began to stroke me sensually. I whimpered at the back of my throat, earning a cocky smirk from Jack who came in for a kiss, rubbing me a little bit harder with his thumb as he worked his middle finger in and out. He ended the kiss and took his lips to the nipple he had ignored earlier, sucking it until it hardened, as well.

He stopped working his fingers and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean, before reaching over to the bedside table and getting another condom, rolling it onto his member. He then kissed me tenderly before quickly flipping me over. I squealed in surprise and pulled myself up to my hands and knees. Jack swept all of my long hair over my right shoulder before bending down and kissing my left one, my head turned to meet his eyes. Holding eye contact, he bit down gently on the flesh of my shoulder as he entered me from behind. He started out thrusting slowly, but with purpose, and when he straightened his body behind me, he pulled me up with him so that my back was flush to his chest.

We writhed together, each working towards the others end, soft moans and catches of breath echoing in my silent apartment. One hand keeping me steady on my hip, his other tormented my breasts, going from one to the other. I had one arm thrown behind my head, hand tangled in his blonde curls, my other hand on the headboard. Our bodies were covered in a sheen of perspiration and our breaths were growing uneven when I heard a sudden, rapid knock on my door. We paused.

"Ignore it," Jack rasped, slowing but not stopping his movements.

"Shh!" I took my hand from his hair and covered his mouth with it, earning what sounded like a growl behind my hand. He thrust once, hard, making me gasp before stilling himself.

"Kaylie?" I heard my sisters muffled voice from the other side of the door. "Kay, you in there? Open up! It's Hallie," she confirmed.

"What the fu- Ugh, I better go get it. Something could be wrong," I reasoned, taking my hand from Jacks mouth. "You stay here, I'll be back," I whispered, planting a quick kiss to his lips before sliding myself off of him and throwing my robe on.

I rushed to the door, which Hallie was still insistently rapping on, tying the robe tightly on the way and wiping sticky hair off my forehead. "What? What is it?" I said breathily, as I threw the door open.

"Kaylie, Jesus!" Hallie exclaimed, a hand to her chest. "I thought something was wrong, you were supposed to call me."

Shit, I had totally forgotten. "Right! No, no. Everything's fine I just got... busy."

Hallie really looked at me for the first time since I'd opened the door, realization dawning on her face. A slow grin started to spread on her lips. "I see..." She glanced to my hallway and back to me before stage whispering. "You mean you got fucked!"

I hit her on the arm. "Shut up. Get out!" I ordered, ushering her out the door. "Later," I promised her.

"Well, I have school, so I just thought I'd come by, make sure you're alright," she said, too loudly to be natural. "You had me worried sick," she finished. "If you don't call me on your break this evening, I won't be so nice next time," she whispered threateningly before pasting a sweet smile on her face and waving with her fingers, turning to leave. I closed the door behind her, resting my forehead on it in frustration as I turned the lock. I stayed there just a moment, but when I turned around, Jack was standing right behind me in all his nude glory.

"Heard the door shut," he whispered hungrily. "Couldn't wait. We need to finish this," he advanced on me, backing me up against the door, pulling my robe open as his mouth sought mine. He grabbed the backs of my thighs with his strong hands, gripping them tightly, and roughly brought them up around his waist, plunging himself into me in one quick movement. I cried out as he began to take me against the door. I continued crying out as I came, with him following suit soon after.

After a moments pause, I lowered my legs and he slipped out of me, both of us breathing heavily. He caught me in another passionate kiss before turning and heading back towards the bedroom, glancing over his shoulder at me. "C'mon. Let's get a couple more hours of sleep. We're gonna need 'em."

I grinned at him and followed him, not bothering to close my robe. I hoped silently to myself that Hallie had made it down a flight of stairs or two before Jack and I went at it against the door. I know she said she wanted 'details' but somehow doubt that these were what she had in mind.

...

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Canadians! Hope that wasn't too much. Or too little, for that matter haha. Let me know what you think! Also, thanks to everyone reading, reviewing, faving and following. Shout out to my reviewers, ** , forgetmenotflowers, loveorpain, WhySoSeriousGirl, Poozie, LabyFan23, watergoddesskasey, SnailsAndPuppyDogTails**, and **KatieMarrie**! You guys kick buns. I really appreciate it.


	7. Always Talking About Changing

_What were we both thinking?_

_The next part just got in the way._

_You were just always talking about changing._

_What if I was the same then, the same I always was?_

**The Airborne Toxic Event - Changing**

As if Jack and I hadn't already been spending most of our time together, after that first night, we were nearly inseparable. We still climbed the stairs together, like always, long after the elevator was fixed. We still had our tea. But, afterwards, he'd usually stay the night, and we'd spend plenty of time tumbling around in bliss. It was wonderful. We kept it up for months. My apartment became our apartment in every way but officially. He became my best friend, my lover, my protector when needed, always on my side and always there when I needed him. Everything was going perfectly until I arrived back at the building one night and Jack wasn't waiting for me by the stairs. I turned around and went back outside, glancing in the direction of the Wild Card Club to see if he was anywhere in sight, but there was no sign of him.

I went back inside and leaned against the wall where Jack usually was when I got home and waited there a few minutes. He didn't come. A few times, thanks to the busses, I've arrived back late, but Jack had never been late. I decided to take the elevator up to the apartment. "Jack?" I called out when I got in the door. The only response I got was a croaky 'meow' from Stanley on the arm of the sofa. I went to the kitchen and picked up the phone. No messages. I dialed the Wild Card Club, but unsurprisingly no one answered. After hours. I took a few deep breaths and went to the bedroom to change into some jeans and a t-shirt, in case I decided to do something stupid like go looking for him.

Once I was changed, I put the kettle on, hoping some tea would settle my nerves. By the end of the second cup with no word from Jack, they were much more unsettled than they had been. Feeling my chest growing tighter in panic, I decided to call the police. I explained to them the situation, and of course, got the usual spiel about them being unable to help where he's only been unaccounted for less than 24 hours. They told me to call back tomorrow night if there was no word.

After hanging up the phone, I rifled through the junk drawer until I found the spare key to Jack's apartment. I practically ran across the hall and knocked hurriedly. When he didn't come to the door right away, I opened the door and let myself in. I flicked on the light and saw the apartment looked just the same as it had when I'd last been in there a couple weeks ago. "Jack? Are you in here?" I knew he wasn't. Of course he wasn't. Why would he be? But I had to try. Before going back to my apartment, I took the elevator back down to check and see if Jack was waiting by the stairs. I know, a silly idea, but it was the only one I had. I sighed when I found no one there, and went back up to my apartment.

Once back home, I fed the cats and wandered mindlessly to the bedroom, sitting on my side of the bed before laying back. "Where are you, Jack?" I wondered aloud to myself.

I must have fallen asleep shortly after lying down, because the next thing I remember is waking up to the apartment door closing. I bolted out of bed and down the hall, throwing myself into Jack's surprised arms. "Jack! Where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick!"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," his words were muffled in my hair as he hugged me back. "I got held up doing some things for Warren."

Warren was Jack's boss. A man who didn't necessarily follow the law in all aspects of his life. I looked at the clock. "It's past five in the morning. He kept you at work for three extra hours?"

Jack shifted uncomfortably. "Not exactly, Kaylie, just had something that needed to be done, and I helped him out. He gave me this," Jack showed me a wad of cash.

"Jesus, Jack, what'd you have to do for this?" I took the money from his hand and flipped through it quickly. "There has to be a thousand dollars here!"

"Calm down, it's nothing," he put his hands on my arms to reassure me. "He just had me take care of an after hours poker game at the club. Big shots, big money. Good way to earn some serious cash. He kind of sprung it on me. I should have called."

"Yes," I nodded. "You should have. Why do you need this kind of money? I know he didn't pay you this much to mix drinks for these guys. I don't see why you have to do this."

"It's not about 'have to,' Sugar," he rolled his eyes. "I just made a grand in less than three hours. I just had to keep an eye on things, keep glasses full, and keep my mouth shut. Three things I am very good at. Why shouldn't I?"

"It just sounds dangerous, babe," I shrugged. "I don't want you getting in bed with these people and getting yourself hurt."

Jack smirked. "Sugar, the only bed I'll be getting in is ours," he waggled his eyebrows comically and started trying to back me up down the hall, stopping when I stood my ground.

"I really don't get why you didn't call," I shook my head.

He took a step back and pushed a hand through his hair in frustration. "You think it didn't occur to me? You were on my mind all night. I knew you'd be worried-"

"I called the police, Jack," I cut him off. His eyes widened. "I thought something had happened. You've never been late. Ever. In six months, you've always been here when I got back. I didn't know what else to do. I waited for ages."

"You called the cops?" I nodded. "Kaylie, from now on, please, do not call the cops. I can handle myself. I don't need anyone thinking the cops are going to come looking for me when I'm doing this stuff," he stepped forward and put his hands on my shoulders. "I'm sorry I made you worry. I would have been going out of my mind. That won't happen again. I couldn't walk away from this to call you, or I would have. I should have told you that I do these things from time to time. This one went longer than usual," he brushed my hair back out of my face and gave me one of his signature grins. "Now, come on, Sugar. How about gettin' in that bed we were talking about? Hmm?"

Not wanting to fight about it anymore, and finding it difficult to resist his charms, I smiled back at him and gave into his advances. "Next time, Jack," he shot his eyebrows up, asking me to finish. "Call," he nodded and made to kiss me, but I backed away. "And Jack? We do need to talk about this tomorrow."

He nodded a second time before finally bringing his lips to mine in a hungry kiss. The rest of the night was spent in ecstasy followed by a blissful, restful slumber. Jack and I didn't argue often, and I wasn't really looking forward to tomorrow's conversation myself. The idea of him helping a man like Warren with something like this made me very uncomfortable. I wanted to know how long it had been going on.

Our talk the next day didn't go as badly as I'd been expecting. Jack explained that he had been working these poker games for Warren for a couple of years and there'd never been an incident. Usually, they'd end before the club closed for the night, but on occasion they would start - and therefore end - late. He reassured me that there was nothing for me to worry about. That the money was good and the job was easy. He also apologized a few more times for making me worry.

Once all was explained and forgiven, we set about racing around the apartment getting ready. This was going to be the day that Jack finally met my parents. After much nagging from my mother, and a couple months of putting it off, we had finally agreed to go into the city for dinner. He had already met Hallie a couple of times. Once when she'd dropped by unexpectedly after school, and once we'd been in the city shopping and she spotted us across the mall we were in. We had lunch with her. She and Jack got along quite well, and she'd told me on the phone how much she'd liked him and how happy we seemed together.

I hadn't been too thrilled when I got a call from my mother one day because Hallie had told her about 'that man' I'd been seeing and asking why I hadn't been considerate enough to call and tell her about him myself. Now it was two months later and we were due at their place in just under two hours. I had told Jack to dress casually, and he'd gone for black slacks and a deep red knitted pullover. I wore a khaki coloured skirt that reached my knees and a plum blouse. I topped it with a khaki coloured jacket, as the Spring air still held a bit of a chill in the evenings.

I had called Hallie, who was spending the day helping Mom with dinner, to get a sense of our mother's mood. Now, don't get me wrong, I loved my mother, but she could be very hard to take. She always seemed to think that I never wanted to be around her, and tried to make me feel guilty about it, which made me not want to be around her. Self-fulfilling prophecy, indeed. Apparently, her mood today wasn't too bad, but she had brought up a couple of times to Hallie how difficult it had been to nail me down for this dinner, and what kind of man I must be seeing to want to hide him from my parents for six months. Hallie said she'd reassured her that Jack was a nice guy and I was just busy.

Thankfully, my Dad was much easier to handle. Always there with a kind smile and a warm hug when his kids needed it, and always with stern words and wise advice when we needed that. I knew he and Jack would get along well. Because Dad didn't judge people. He got to know them. Mom would likely spend half of the evening trying to judge Jack and the other half asking me or Hallie if her judgments were accurate when Jack was out of earshot. My brother, Aiden, who was 17, and his girlfriend, Kimmy, who I hadn't met yet, were going to be there, as well. Lucky Jack was going to get to meet the whole Cameron family.

We called a cab earlier in the day and it arrived for us at 5:15. As long as traffic was okay - which it should be on a Sunday - we would be there about fifteen minutes early. Our cab driver was nice, and the ride was filled with general chatter and friendliness. I felt the first pang of butterflies in my stomach as we turned onto my parent's street. I grabbed Jack hand and he looked over, cool as a cucumber, with a calming smile on his face. "Y'alright?" He asked, squeezing my hand.

"Just a bit nervous," I reassured him. I'd told him bits about my family, and he'd heard me on the phone to my Mom a few times. "Can I apologize now for anything rude my mother may say?" I laughed.

Jack grinned as we turned into my old driveway. "I'm sure it'll be fine, Sugar."

We got out of the taxi and paid the driver. I saw my father look out the living room window and gave a small wave. He smiled brightly through the curtains and waved back. I realized then that, despite my nerves, I had missed my family. I had spent Christmas with them, as I had four days off, but hadn't seen them since. "Ready?" I looked sideways at Jack.

"Ladies first," he gestured forward with his hand and I led the way.

We climbed the front steps and I knocked on the door. Aiden opened it shortly after with an incredulous look on his face. "You don't knock, Kay! This is your house!" He pulled me into a tight hug and shook Jacks hand over my shoulder. "Nice to meet you, man," he said with a smile in his voice. My brother was always a really nice, good kid. I looked at him now, a 17 year old, with tufts of red hair peeking out from underneath a knitted black cap, towering over me by at least four or five inches, ready to graduate in a couple months, and I was so happy to see him.

"Jack, this is my brother, Aiden. Aiden, this is Jack," I introduced them just as I head the thunder of four feet racing down the stairs. Before I could say anything else, I was knocked backwards into Jack's arms by the bouncy, chubby, black lab who had been with my family for seven years. I got down on my knees to greet her properly, laughing as she licked my face. "And this - stop it, Bels! - is our dog Bella!" Jack crouched down next to me and gave her a couple of pats before standing up, putting his hand out to help me, which I accepted. I took my shoes off, and Jack followed suit.

"Well, Kaylie, what are you waiting for?" I heard my father's booming, jolly voice from the living room. "Get in here and hug your old man!"

I half-ran to the living room, Bella at my heels, leaving Jack behind with Aiden (though I heard them follow at a slightly slower pace). When I got to the living room, I threw my arms around Dad's neck and he swung me up into a big bear-hug. I laughed as he kissed the side of my head and put me on the floor. "Where's this fella of yours?" He asked, sparkle in his brown eyes and a smile on his face.

I turned to the door just as Aiden led Jack in and put my arm out for Jack to join me. He came to my side and I hooked my arm through his left one as he extended his right one towards my father, who accepted it with a wide smile. "Dad, this is Jack Napier. Jack, this is my adorable father, Isaac."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Cameron," Jack said politely.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Napier," my father echoed. "Now, let's drop the formalities, Jack, call me Isaac," he insisted.

"Where's Mom?" I inquired, deciding it was about time to face her.

"Where do you think, Kay? She's in the kitchen slaving over a hot stove so she can remind us of that fact fifty times later," came Aiden's sarcastic reply.

"Hey! Watch it, son, she's working hard out there," warned our father, though his tone was gentle.

"I'm going to go let her know we're here," I told Jack. "Why don't you guys sit down out here and I'll get her to come in?" They nodded and all picked their spots to sit down as I left to go to the kitchen. This time, Bella stayed behind, instead choosing to sniff the pants, hands, socks, and everything else of the "new" person in the house.

The kitchen was at the back of the house, and as I approached it, I heard the tell-tale sounds of a feast being prepared. The smell was incredible, too, but that was through the whole house. As usual when cooking, Mom had the radio on. A jazz station, it sounded like, tonight. Hallie was at the counter cutting veggies up for a salad and saw me as soon as I walked in. "Sister!" She exclaimed, rounding the corner to give me a hug. I saw Charlie smiling at me from his play-mat on the floor and I gave him a wink.

When I looked up, Mom had turned from the sink and was drying her hands, a small, weary smile on her face. My mom had aged very well, looking considerably younger than her 44 years. The only thing betraying her age was the lightening of her red hair - which was clipped away from her face this evening - and a few small lines on her face. When Hallie let me go, I walked over to Mom, who tossed her towel to the countertop and smoothed my hair out of my face before cupping my face in her hands and studying it lovingly with her eyes, as though trying to see something new. "Glad you could make it, baby," she said as she kissed my cheek and pulled me in for a hug. I hugged her closed and returned her kiss before pulling away.

"Of course, Mom," I was going to apologize for it taking so long to put this together, but I didn't want to give her any ammo. "Dinner smells great," I picked up a carrot Hallie had been chopping up and started to nibble on it.

Mom nodded and turned back to her preparations. "It should, it's taken all afternoon to make. I know how much you like my ham, so I thought it was appropriate," she turned back to me and held out a glass full of punch, which I accepted and sipped. My father's recipe, no doubt. "Are you eating, Kaylie? You look thin. Doesn't she look thin, Hallie?" Mom looked to Hallie for backup.

I rolled my eyes. "Mom, like I told you at Christmas, I weigh as much as I did when you saw me last. I'm eating fine," I assured her. "Now, if you're able to leave the kitchen for a minute, I'd like you to come out and meet Jack," I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb.

Her eyes widened for a second in realization, as though she'd forgotten the whole reason I was there for dinner in the first place. "Oh, right! Let me pour him something to drink," which she did before following me out of the kitchen.

When we walked into the living room, there was a tall, lanky girl with dark blonde, shoulder length hair and glasses sitting next to my brother in a chair holding his hand, and everyone was laughing over some story Aiden was telling about a friend of his. Hallie walked by us with Charlie and sat down next to our Dad, which brought the laughter to a rolling stop.

"Jack, I'd like you to meet my Mom, Karla. Mom, this is Jack," I smiled at each of them as Jack stood up and shook Mom's hand before accepting the drink she offered him.

"Mrs. Cameron, it's great to meet you finally," he nodded, taking a sip of the punch.

I noticed Mom's eyes take in his scars, but she neither stared nor mentioned them, as she lightly tapped him on the arm. "Karla, please," she insisted. "Lovely to meet you, Jack. I hope you like ham."

Jack nodded and smiled. "I do, yes. It smells delicious."

"Good. Well, it'll be ready in about ten minutes if everyone wants to go sit in the dining room. Hallie? Kaylie? The girls and I will bring the food in once it's served," Hallie handed Charlie to Dad and went to follow Mom to the kitchen. I let her know I'd just be a second behind them.

I grabbed Aiden's arm as he and his girlfriend were about to walk past. "Hi! Sorry. I didn't hear anyone else come in. I'm Kaylie," I extended my hand to her.

"I'm Kimmy, hi," she smiled shyly and shook my hand. "I was upstairs with Bella when you got here," she explained.

"Ooh, yeah, it's hard to resist those Lazy Boys," I nodded. Her smile got wider as she agreed. After a quick chat, I let them go to the dining room and made my way to the kitchen to help Mom and Hallie serve dinner.

"So, Jack," my mother began as everyone was enjoying dinner. "Kaylie tells me you work at a club? Wild Card or something? How do you like it?"

Jack nodded and swallowed the bite of food he had taken. "It's not bad. Keeps food on the table," he chuckled. My father chuckled understandingly with him.

"But still," Mom continued. "You can't want to do that forever, can you?" She prodded.

"Mom-" I started.

"No, it's alright," Jack touched my arm. "She's not wrong. I would, of course, retire at some point," he winked. I glanced at my mother and saw that she actually smiled at his silly joke.

I breathed a quiet sigh of relief as it seemed that she would drop it. "How's school going, Hallie?" I changed the subject.

"I'm loving it," she smiled. "Done for the Summer at the end of the month."

"Lucky," Aiden scoffed. "I'm stuck waiting around 'til June!"

"Yeah, but then you're taking a full year off, turd," Hallie retorted.

"Now, now," Dad put his hands up. "Enough of that at the table, Hallie."

"Right-o," Hallie smirked.

Dinner conversation was light and jovial for the rest of the meal. Jack was fitting in very well with my family and I couldn't be happier. Mom wasn't grilling him, he shared Dad's awkward humor, Aiden was a math nerd like he was, he and Hallie carried on like siblings, themselves. I was having a really nice evening. From the smiles I kept getting from Jack, I could tell he thought it was going well, too.

It was 9:30pm, and the cab we had called had just pulled up in front of the house and blown the horn once. Jack said his goodbye's and thank you's before heading to the car, after he left, I said mine. Upstairs, I hugged my siblings and Kimmy, kissed my sleeping nephew and then went back downstairs to see my parents.

"He's a nice lad, sweetheart," Dad said as he pulled me into a hug. "Make sure he keeps you happy. I haven't seen you smile this much in ages."

"Thanks, Dad," I said as I kissed his cheek. "Love you."

"Love you, too," he said as I turned to head to the kitchen to say bye to Mom.

She was at the sink again, drying dishes. I put an arm over her shoulder and kissed her cheek. She dried her hands and turned to face me, hugging me around the shoulders. "Thanks for dinner, Mom," I smiled at her. "It was delicious."

"Well, don't wait until Christmas to come back and see us, Kaylie," she ordered. "He's nice," she gestured with her eyes towards the hallway. "He needs to find some ambition, though. You deserve better than a club worker."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. I should have seen this coming. "Mom, I am a club worker."

"Oh, Kaylie, don't say that," she chided as she wiped off the countertops. "You sing in a nice hotel in the city."

"Once or twice a week," I reminded her. "I'm a bartender most days."

"Well," she sighed. "Maybe you should find some ambition, too, then."

"I don't have time for this, Mom, my cab's outside," I told her, turning to leave.

"And what about that? He doesn't even have a car?" She threw her hands up in question.

"I don't have a car," I countered, turning back to face her. "We don't need one. Where we live, it'd only be broken into, anyway," I regretted saying it as soon as it had come out. Ammo.

"Oh, that's just great, Kaylie," she raised her voice slightly. "As if I don't worry about you enough. I don't need the reminder that my baby girl is living in the worst damn spot in Gotham."

"For God's sake, Mom," I turned back around. "I don't need this. I'm with Jack. I'm safe, I'm happy, I'm healthy. I love you. Goodbye."

"He won't be able to keep you safe," she snorted. "Look at his face. He can't even protect himself.

I spun on my heel and pointed a finger in her face. "How dare you. You have no idea how he got those scars," I was on the verge of angry tears, but I kept my voice even so as not to alarm anyone in the house. "And for your information, he has kept me safe. He has protected me. He's the best man I've ever met. You just can't help yourself, can you? You have to pick apart and judge every single person you come in contact with. You don't even know Jack."

"If he cared about you at all he'd get a real job and move you the hell out of the Narrows," she railed back, not quite as concerned for discretion as I.

"He does care about me," I matched her tone. "He cares about me a lot. And I love him, Mom," I lowered my voice as a tear escaped my eye. "I'm in love with him."

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it and looked past me to the doorway. I turned around and my jaw dropped. There was Jack, standing awkwardly in the hallway, tapping the fingers of his left hand on the wall and looking at the floor. "I... uh... I wasn't sure if... Just wanted to see what the hold up was," he finally met my eyes with a small, reassuring smile.

"Come on," I patted his shoulder as I walked past him. "Let's go." I heard him follow me as I stormed out the door, angry at the nerve my mother had, to bring these things up as we were on our way out. After what had been such a great night. I got in the cab on the driver's side and Jack got in the other side wordlessly.

The drive home was spent in slightly awkward silence. I had my head rested on the cool window. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jack look over at me a couple times. I was too embarrassed to meet his gaze. I knew he had heard my confession to my mother. I hadn't told him that yet. I didn't know if he felt the same. I didn't know if it was too soon for such big feelings. Traffic was good the whole way home and we were back at our building by just past ten.

I was tempted to go to the elevator. I was feeling drained after the argument with Mom. But Jack had my hand and led me to the stairs, as usual. We climbed them in silence, too. I took out my keys as we got to the door. Jack stopped me before I could put them in the lock. He turned me around, pinned me gently against the door and kissed me softly on the lips. He drew back and I opened my eyes, raising them to his. His expression was soft, his smile only there in his eyes. "I love you, Sugar," he said quietly, nodding. "Have for ages."

My eyes welled up again, happily this time. "Jack," I breathed. "I love you so much," another kiss against the door as Jack took my keys from my hand and unlocked the door to let us in without breaking the kiss, ready for another sleepless night which neither of us would complain about in the morning.

A/N: A long one! We meet the family. I hope this wasn't too long, though. Hope you all enjoyed it. Thanks to all reading, reviewing, faving and following!


	8. What I Cannot Change

_I will learn to let go what I cannot change_

_I will learn to forgive what I cannot change_

_I will learn to love what I cannot change_

_But I will change, yeah I will change_

_Whatever I, whatever I can_

**LeAnn Rimes - What I Cannot Change**

Jack turned twenty-four that April and I turned twenty-two in June, so we decided to celebrate both birthdays in May. My parents offered to put on a barbecue, which we were happy to accept. Mom and I, as usual, had talked out our differences a couple of weeks following our argument at dinner. I also told her a little bit about Jack, as my mother could be a very sympathetic person. The fact that he had no family of his own really brought out the Mom in her. They told us to invite any friends we'd like and just give them a headcount. Well, Jack and I didn't have many friends outside of work. My best friend, Lauren, lived in California and my close friends from high school I no longer considered close. I invited Rita, my cousin with whom I was always close, and Ern, Claudia and Reg from work. Jack invited Andy and Rick from work.

The barbecue was nice. The weather was good, the food was fantastic, and everyone seemed to have a great time. A few of us decided to go out for drinks afterwards, as we were having such a good time, we didn't want it to end. Around 9:30, Jack, Ern, Reg, Claudia, Andy, Hallie and I piled into Ern and Andy's cars and headed for the Beckford. We chose the Beckford, as no one there would ID anyone with Ern, and Hallie wasn't twenty-one yet.

We arrived there and walked straight in. Saturday nights were usually busy, and this one was no exception, but no one was about to turn the boss away. There was a table free in the back corner, nice and private, which would be perfect for us. Claudia wrote down what everyone wanted and took it to the bar before joining us at the table. "Always a waitress," Reg cracked, earning a slap on the shoulder from a laughing Claudia.

"It's just easier than waiting. Tina's on," she jabbed.

"Steady," Ern warned in a mock serious tone. Our drinks arrived quickly, despite Claudia's skepticism, and we tossed them back fairly quickly before ordering more.

Conversation was light, but loud, with a few conversations happening at the table and everyone talking over each other. A few of the regulars from the bar spotted us and came and went between our table and theirs.

"It's crazy in here tonight," Reg's deep voice was loud so we could hear him as he sat back down after helping Aaron, the other doorman, break up a fight and escort the drunkards out of the bar.

Andy scoffed. "This is nothing," he slurred. "There's probably been six of those already at Wild Card, eh, Jack?"

Jack raised his eyebrows and nodded once, taking a swig of his beer. He had been quiet - but social - most of the night, but that wasn't uncharacteristic of him in crowds like this. He'd rather watch and listen, cutting in with the occasional wisecrack or correction, than try to stay focused on one conversation in this volume.

"Ser'sly, ser'sly, guys, listen," Andy went on. "Last Thursday, we had these four jackasses come in together, and - remember this Jack -" another nod from Jack. "And they started bothering three other dudes at a table, right in the middle of the fuckin' club," he gestured around himself. "Ended up one of 'em got stabbed in the fuckin' neck, and the other three got their asses kicked. Now that was crazy," he concluded as he threw the last of his rum and Coke down his throat.

I looked at Jack as everyone else carried on with their conversations. He hadn't told me any of that. He looked me in the eyes, and his own were angry. Presumably at Andy's loose lips. He shook his head a bit and shrugged, and I shook my head back at him. I knew he worked in a rougher spot, but I didn't like the idea of stabbings being so routine that Andy could speak of them so casually. I cast my eyes down to the table momentarily before looking at the clock above the bar. Almost 2. At least I wouldn't have to make up an excuse to get out of there. I'd be saved by last call soon enough.

Ern, who had only had the one drink, insisted on giving us a ride home at the end of the night, and we accepted. The conversation was a bit awkward and mostly between me and Ern, who remarked at one point: "A bit chilly in here, isn't it?" And was promptly told by me to drop it. He had driven me home before, so made no comment about the area we lived in. I thanked him as we exited the car.

As soon as we were in the building, Jack spoke up. "I was nowhere near it, Sugar. I was behind the bar," there was irritation in his voice at having to defend himself. I knew he was wishing Andy had kept his mouth shut. He opened the door for me and we started to make our way up the stairs.

I shook my head as I climbed. "I still don't like it, Jack. That's too close for comfort. Does this happen often?" I looked back at him. His face was hard.

"I don't know," he threw his hands up in frustration, which was also apparent in his voice. "It's the Narrows, Kaylie, these things do happen."

"Once a week?" I pressed.

"Not quite," he bit out, emphasis on the 't' in each word.

"Once a month?"

He sighed loudly through his nostrils. "Sugar, if..." Another sigh, to calm his erratic voice down. "If it were that predictable, we'd be shut down," he shoved the door to our floor open in front of me and followed me into the hallway.

"Fights?"

"All the fucking time, Kaylie, it's a sleaze club in the Narrows," he whispered harshly, arms out to his sides.

"Do you have to get involved?" I asked, my back to him as I unlocked and opened the door to the apartment.

"No," he followed me in, closing and locking the door, and sat at his spot while I went and mindlessly plugged in the kettle. "No, no, no. How often have I come home bruised up, hmm? Never, right?" He smirked at me and nodded. "I'm no bouncer, Sugar, we've got those covered."

I sighed as I sat down across from him. "Do the fights ever happen because of your poker games?" We hadn't talked about them since I learned about them a couple months previous.

The smirk dropped from his face and is eyes dropped to his hands as he fidgeted. "On occasion. This guy accuses that one of cheating, he gets insulted, yadda, yadda. But, again," he sat up quickly, pointing a finger at me and looking me in the eyes again. "I'm not there to handle that. We've got someone in there to keep that under control."

"What do you do, then? Why can't that guy keep the glasses full and keep an eye on things?" I recalled his description of his responsibilities from before.

He narrowed his eyes at this. He also briefly sucked in his lips and, for the first time I noticed, slowly trailed his tongue along the inside of his scars, a habit that would only grow in speed and frequency later on in life. "I, uh, I make sure they don't cheat," he put emphasis on 'don't' this time.

I nodded slowly, my own eyes narrowed, as well. "Isn't that a bit dangerous, Jack? Calling out these 'big shots' for cheating?"

He spread his hands and sat up. "Hasn't been so far," he didn't avert his gaze, didn't smile, and didn't look impressed with this interview.

"Keep it that way, hmm?" I leaned towards him as I said this, then walked out of the kitchen and down the hall. "I don't really feel like tea tonight, Wild Card," I spat. "I'm getting a bath," I heard him mumble something behind me as I closed the door, but didn't ask him to repeat himself.

When I got out of the bath, Jack was in bed. He had left the door open and I could see him sleeping face down with Samson curled up between his shoulders. I shook my head and went in long enough to grab a night shirt out of the dresser, changing quietly before I went to the kitchen and flicked the kettle back on. I heard Samson follow me out of the room, so while I waited for it to boil, I fed the cats and gave them some loving.

After I'd made my tea I settled myself on the sofa with a puzzle book and a blanket. My mind was going a bit wild for sleep just yet, and I didn't want to wake Jack up. I felt guilty that I had been so pushy about his job. Sure, it made me uncomfortable, but he had been doing this before I was even in his life. To make him defend it to me now was selfish and unreasonable. I decided I'd apologize to him for it in the morning.

I must have fallen asleep shortly after that, as I woke up curled into the corner of the sofa, book still clutched in my hands and blanket pulled up to my neck. I heard water running from the bathroom and realized I must have been woken up by Jack's morning routine. I looked at the clock, it was just past ten. I stood up and stretched, stiff from my odd sleeping position. I plodded into the bedroom and dressed in black capri's, cream coloured tank top with a black cardigan on top. I stepped out of the bedroom just as Jack stepped out of the bathroom. He had his back to me, looking out into the living room. I quietly wrapped my arms around him and pressed my cheek to the cooling skin of his back, flattening my palms against his stomach. He patted my hands with his before pulling mine apart and turning to face me, his face apologetic.

"I'm sorry about last night," I blurted before he could. "It wasn't fair of me to push you about your job like that. I know you can take care of yourself, I just worry about you," I smiled and reached up to brush his wet curls away from his forehead.

He kissed my palm before I brought my hand down to rest on his collar bone. "I know, Sugar," he nodded. "But, I can take care of myself," he reassured me, now wrapping his arms around me, hands clasping around my lower back. "Been doin' it for years," he rolled his eyes with a smile before lightly slapping me on the ass. "Now, come on. Let me get dressed and we'll go grab something for breakfast before they stop serving it."

I slapped his arm playfully, but let him walk past me into the bedroom. I walked slowly down the hall and into the living room, taking my mug from the night before and setting it in the sink to wash later. Jack emerged fully clothed a minute later, so we pulled our shoes on and left the apartment cheerfully, any animosity from the night before forgotten.

As though the universe had been listening, a few weeks after the argument, Jack did come home bruised up. A black eye, and a stitched-up cut on and under his bottom lip were the first thing I saw when I walked in the doors of the building. I ran over to him and lifted my hands to his face, but didn't touch him, not wanting to hurt him. "Oh my God, Jack! What happened? Are you okay?" The questions came out in a frenzy.

Jack took my hands in his and lowered them, rubbing his thumbs over them as he shushed me. He tried a soft smile, but winced a bit and settled for simply raising his eyebrows instead. "Hey, shh, hey," he rumbled. "I'm fine. It's nothin', Sugar, I promise."

"Nothing? Jack, you had to go to the hospital. That's not nothing," I gasped, incredulous.

"Hospital?" He brought his eyebrows together, than realized. "No, no. One of the guys I work with was a, uh, a paramedic. Before. He stitched me up to keep questions quiet."

My eyebrows shot up and I dropped my arms to my side. "How did this happen?"

Jack looked over my shoulder as another resident of the building arrived home, apparently after a night of drinking. He took me by the shoulders, opened the door to the stairs, and led me through them. "Come on, let's go upstairs and we can talk."

I nodded, not wanting our dirty laundry, or Jack's possibly illegal activities, aired for our drunken neighbours. When we arrived at the apartment, I habitually turned on the kettle and Jack took his usual spot at the island. "Well?" I urged him to explain.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "It was one of the games, Sugar," he said, opening his eyes. "I pointed out a scumbag cheating to one of the other guys, and when he was confronted about it, a bit of a row broke out, that's all. It got settled and everything's fine."

I took a deep breath, not wanting a repeat of our fight from before. I had to try and be understanding of where Jack was coming from. "Okay. A-and, the paramedic? He just happens to work there?"

"Actually, babe, to be honest, he works for Warren," Jack used his hands as he spoke. "I'm not sure if he was a paramedic, you don't ask that stuff, but he's helped Warren with this kind of problem before. With Warren's record, the less eyes on him the better. A hospital visit over a split lip wouldn't be good."

I touched my fingers to his jaw lightly and leaned in to get a good look at his lip. "It's going to scar," I said, matter of factly.

"A full set," he smiled with effort.

I found myself smirking at his bad joke. The kettle went off then, so I made our tea. I set his in front of him, then sat down with mine. I looked at him, then the tea, and barked a laugh. "God, Jack," I shook my head. "You can't drink that. Not with that lip,"

I got up to take his tea away, but he took my hand and shook his head. "It'll cool," he nodded for me to sit back down. "Listen, Sugar, I know you don't like this side of things. I don't particularly like it when this shit happens," he laughed dryly. "I want to know what you think of," he cleared his throat behind his hand. "Me getting out of my lease over there? We could sell some of my things, I'd be able to help pay for more things over here. I'm never over there anymore. Most of my shit's here."

I found myself smiling as he rambled. Of course he should. It made sense. "Yeah, Jack. Do it. Why haven't we? It's such a waste of money."

"Exactly. Then, and I'm not making any promises here," he pointed at me with one hand and tapped his other on the island, making sure he had my total attention. "I could talk to Warren about not doing the games as often. He might not go for it, but it's hard to say."

"You'd do that?" I asked.

"I'd try," he nodded. I nodded back at him. "Great. I'll call Ray in the morning," Ray was our landlord. "And if that goes well, I'll talk to Warren tomorrow night."

He'd had no trouble getting out of his lease. It was only a month until his year was up, anyway, and we both got along fairly well with Ray. He'd told Ray to keep the damage deposit as rent for that last month. Warren hadn't been so accommodating. He liked having Jack around the games, for whatever reason, and so Jack was still working them. I didn't like it, but there was nothing I could do about it. So, I sucked it up and hoped for the best.

It didn't take us any time at all to move what few belongings Jack wanted to keep from his apartment to mine. The only furniture he wanted was his desk and chair, which we put in the corner by the window in the living room. Besides clothes and a few odds and ends, he'd sold the rest of his belongings (which hadn't already been moved into our apartment, that is). And with that, it was official. Jack and I were living together. How quickly things had changed.

A/N: Thanks, again, to all reading, reviewing, faving and following. I'm glad so many of you seem to be enjoying the story. I apologize if it seems to be moving along slowly, but I promise it is all relevant. To Poozie: You aren't wrong! ;-)


	9. I Will Change If I Must

_I will change if I must_

_Slow it down and bring it home, I will adjust_

_Oh if only, if only you knew_

_Everything I do, is for you_

**Adele - Take it All**

On a night that September I got sent home early from work. Sure, it wasn't busy yet, but it was Saturday and I was sure it would pick up. I was never the one to get sent home early. Ern said he wanted the new girl to stay so he could train her and couldn't justify keeping all of us on. He promised me it wouldn't happen often.

Given that it was such a rarity, I took my early night off happily, hopped on the bus, and went for home. I took the elevator up, as Jack wouldn't be home for hours, with the intention of getting in, calling my sister, and vegging on the sofa for a change. I opened the door to my apartment and found the light over the island was on. It took a second for that shock to wear off before I was hit with another one. There was a vase on the island with a bunch of purple flowers in it. The ones from out front like the one Jack had given me over a year earlier. There was also a folded piece of paper peeking out from the flowers. I took it and opened it up, my heart thumping in my chest. The note read, simply, 'On the roof, Sugar. Jack.'

Without hesitation, I closed and locked the door and ran back to the stairs, ascending them quickly. I paused when I reached the door to the roof. It was propped open, like he had before. I took a deep breath before pushing it open. He had been looking out over the edge when he heard the door open up and turned to face me, a satisfied, happy smile on his handsome face. "Right on time," he remarked, making his way over to me slowly, pulling me in for a long, slow kiss.

"Jack," I said breathlessly, opening my eyes. "What is this?" I looked around him, he had garden lights strung up around the roof with a blanket, pillows, and what looked like a takeout bag, all spread out beneath them.

"This," he said, spreading his arms out grandly and spinning around. "Is where we came for our third -" he winked at me. "- date. It's been over a year. Can you believe it?" His face was cast upwards towards the stars and his tongue traced the scar on his bottom lip, in thought. He brought his face back to mine and kissed me again, deeply. "They still can't compare to you, Sugar, those stars."

I smiled and pulled him in for a hug. He held me tightly before pushing away, keeping his hands on my arms. "C'mere. I've got your favourite sandwich, some fruit, drinks, all kinds of stuff," he led me excitedly to the blanket and plopped himself down on a pillow indicating for me to follow suit. I did, planting myself on a pillow right next to him. He held out a glass for me, which I took, and poured some white wine into it and we started to eat.

"What I really want to know is, how did you get Ern in on this?" I asked, still astonished that he'd managed to pull it off.

He shrugged. "That was easy. I had a tougher time convincing Ray to let me string these lights up here," he waved his hand (which was holding his wine) above our heads gesturing at the lights, somehow managing not to spill his drink. "Which reminds me," he began, emptying his glass. "Don't let me forget to unplug them. I can take 'em down tomorrow, but I can't leave 'em plugged in."

"How did you get the night off?" I pressed.

Another shrug. "I asked for it weeks ago," he admitted. "Been planning this for a while, Sugar. We never really did celebrate our anniversary."

"You are the sweetest man, Jack Napier," I leaned into his side and he wrapped an arm around me. "Such a Wild Card. You never stop surprising me."

He kissed my head. "I never will," he promised.

After the food and wine was gone, Jack and I laid down together on the pillows and looked at the sky for a little while, simply chatting with one another. Before I knew what was happening, Jack was on his side, leaning over me, kissing me passionately as he ran his hand down the side of my shirt, and then up under it. I moaned in the back of my throat, which urged him on. He put his knee between my legs and pushed them apart. I was wearing the black skirt I often wore while waitressing, so he had easy access to the area he sought. After a few moments of kissing and caressing, I heard Jack's zipper followed by the tell-tale sounds of a foil wrapper being torn open. Seconds later, I felt my panties being pushed aside and Jack pushing his way into me. He kept his lips on me almost the whole time. He kissed my face, lips, neck, collarbone, anywhere he could reach. He had his hands entwined with mine above my head as he thrust himself into me. I felt the familiar pressure building up inside of me and wrapped an arm around his back so I could use my hand, as well as my leg, to help work him further inside of me. It wasn't much longer before our breath was coming in short, hot gasps and our moans were being muffled by kisses.

Still breathless, Jack rolled off of me, flicking my skirt down as he went. I heard him zip his pants back up and let out a chuckle, then both of our heads fell to the side and we looked at one another. His smile still playing on his face. I smiled back at him and took his hand in mine, pulling it up to my face and kissing his fingers. He pulled my hand back to him and kissed the back of it before standing up. "Should probably pick this stuff up and head in," he pointed to the door. "I know we're all warmed up now, but it is getting chilly," he winked.

I laughed at him. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. I stood, as well, and helped him fold up the blankets and put all of the garbage into the brown, paper takeout bag.

Jack stopped me as I went to pick it up. "No, Sugar, I got this," he touched my arm and stood me up. "You want to unplug those lights for me? Remember to close the weather guard on the outlet, or Ray will blow his top."

I nodded and walked to the corner where the lights were plugged in. I pulled out the cord and flipped the weather guard closed, but heard something hard fall to the roof. "Oh, shit, Jack," I called over my shoulder. "Something fell, you got a -" the area around me illuminated from behind me, Jack was already there. "- flashlight," I looked down to see what had fallen and my jaw dropped. Sitting there, under the outlet, sparkling in the light, was a simple, elegant, beautiful, princess cut, white gold ring. "Jack?" I picked the ring up and turned around, tears welling in my eyes from the shock. Jack was on one knee in front of me, flashlight on the ground, and again he took my hands in his, holding the ring between his thumb and index finger.

"Kaylie," he took a deep breath and began. "I knew I wanted to know you the first time I met you. All dolled up and exasperated climbing the stairs," he chuckled at the memory. "I knew I wanted to be with you the more I got to know you. And I've known I've wanted to stay with you for a long time now," he kept his eyes fixed on mine, which were still threatening to spill tears. "I know this might seem soon to some people, but we're not just some people. You and me, Sugar, we've spent pretty much every available second together for the past year. You know more about me than anyone ever has. I know more about you than I've ever cared to know about another person," another chuckle from Jack, which I returned, allowing a tear to escape and roll down my cheek. "And I'll always want to know more. I love you more than I can say, and I want to marry you. I know that. Will you marry me?"

I sighed and slipped my finger into the ring. "I love you, Jack," I whispered. "Yes, I'll marry you," he leapt up and lifted me into a hug, kissing me as we spun. We both laughed as he set me back on my feet again.

Still smiling, he took me by the hand and led me back to where the blanket and pillows were folded and waiting to be taken inside. "Y'know, if you still want to, you can take the trash in," he laughed. "Don't think I'll be able to juggle it along with the pillows."

I laughed and tossed one of the pillows at him, but tucked two of them under my arm before picking up the bag of trash. "Happy?" I joked.

Jack paused and looked me in the eye. "Completely."

Though we were in no rush to actually get married, we did tell my family about the engagement. They were very happy for us. Mom wanted to start planning for it right away, but I assured her that the actual wedding wouldn't be happening for a couple of years. We wanted to get some money saved, get out of the Narrows, maybe rent a small house or something, and those things were more important to us than a wedding and, therefore, took precedence financially.

Unbeknownst to me at that time, to help us save up money quicker, Jack had started taking a more active role in working the poker games, as well as doing them more frequently. I was surprised one evening in February, after spending the day with my sister and nephew, to come home and find Jack sitting on the windowsill smoking. I know he smoked occasionally, but he wasn't what I would call a 'smoker.' He certainly had never, to my knowledge, smoked in the apartment while looking more on edge than I had seen him in a long time. He jumped when he heard me close the apartment door and stood up, half-smoked cigarette hanging from between two fingers.

"What's wrong, Jack?" I asked, concerned, taking a few steps into the apartment.

He took a final drag before butting the cigarette out on the outside window ledge, closing the window afterwards. "Nothin', Sugar, just needed a smoke and didn't want to go out in that," he pointed to the snowy outdoors. His voice was higher than normal and had a forced calm tone.

"Don't lie to me, Jack," I shrugged my coat off and laid it over the arm of the sofa, knitting my eyebrows together. "Lying doesn't suit you. What's wrong?"

He sighed deeply closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. He walked around the chair and sat down in it, leaning forward and gesturing for me to sit across from him on the sofa. I did. "Don't get mad," he prepared me. I narrowed my eyes and angled my head at him. "Alright. Listen, I went into the club today while you were gone and worked a game for Warren. Big money, babe, I couldn't really turn it down."

"And?" I kept my voice flat, knowing that a poker game wouldn't be enough to put Jack in such a worried state.

"And things got a little hairy," he continued. "One of them was losing big time, and started hollering that one of the other guys must be cheating. I was watching the game, no one was cheating, this guy just sucked."

"Spit it out, Jack, what happened?" I pushed. "You aren't beat up like before, so what is it?"

Another sigh. "He calmed down, but he said he knew the game was rigged, that I was in the other guy's pocket. After the game, Warren told me that this guy has friends in bad places, and if he's got an eye for me now that I'd better watch out."

My jaw dropped. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Jack shrugged tensely and brought his hands up. "I don't know, Kaylie, but it's not good. Warren paid me three times what that game was worth and told me not to come in to work until he called me. He was going to put some feelers out and try to smooth things over with this asshole."

"Jesus Christ, Jack," I gasped. "What are we going to do?"

He leaned forward and grabbed my hand. "We aren't going to do anything, Sugar. This is my problem, not yours. You're gonna go to work and come home like normal. I'm going to wait for Warren to get back to me. That's it."

"Does this guy know where you live?" I asked quietly, genuinely afraid at this point.

"No, Sugar, I promise," Jack assured me. "There's no way for him to know that. That information isn't even on file at the club, and Warren would never tell him that."

"Shouldn't we-" I cleared my throat, which felt thick and tight. "Shouldn't we call the police? Tell them something? I mean we-" Jack knelt in front of me and took my face in his hands, shushing me.

"No, no, no, Sugar," he shook his head and held my eye contact. "Remember what I said? We never call the police about this stuff. We'd get in more trouble than it's worth, nothing would get done, and then we'd be on Warren's bad side. I'll be fine, Kaylie, I just need to keep my head down until Warren sorts this out. Stay away from the club."

"You're sure?" I wasn't convinced.

"Positive," he nodded, finally sitting back up into his chair. "Hey, it'll be like a mini vacation. We'll go visit your folks, see a movie, all sorts of stuff," he smiled widely and sat back, seemingly calmed.

I still wasn't convinced, but nodded anyway. Jack wouldn't let anything happen to me. If I was sure of anything, I was sure of that. I crawled into his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck. He wrapped one of his around me and, with the remote in his other hand, turned the television on. Within these four walls, everything would be okay. At least for the time being.

The next few days were admittedly a bit tense. Jack insisted I carry the knife he gave me everywhere, just to be on the safe side, and he stayed home, anxiously awaiting a phone call from Warren. He wasn't sleeping well, with so much on his mind, and he paced around the apartment like a caged animal at some point. Not the type to stick around home all the time like this, he was obviously going a bit stir crazy.

A week later, we were sitting in the kitchen eating dinner when the phone rang. Seeing it was the club calling, I handed the phone to Jack, who eagerly grabbed it from my hand. I only heard his end of the conversation, but here's how it went.

"Yeah?... It's me... Yeah... Okay, so what does that mean?... Look, I'm losin' my marbles here, man, I need to get out... Yeah? You're sure?... I don't want-... Okay... Yeah, man, I trust you... Alright, thanks... Bye," then he hung up.

"Well?" I asked.

"I still can't go in to work," he sighed. "But, Warren says things are cleaning up nicely and I don't need to keep myself cooped up all the time. Buddy's been to the club a couple times, but doesn't have eyes on me. He told me to relax, have a beer, take my lady out to dinner, and put this out of my head. Said he'd call me in a couple days."

"I don't know, Jack..." I trailed off.

"Listen, Sugar, I'm gonna have a hole paced through the floor if I stay in here much longer," he half-joked. "You're off again tomorrow, I'll take you out to dinner. We'll steer clear of Wild Card, go straight in the other direction. Have a bite to eat, come home, roll around a bit-" he waggled his eyebrows. "- I'll feel much better for having gotten out of here for a couple hours. We'll get back here before dark, if it'll make you feel better?"

I sighed, but relented. I know how hard it had been on him being stuck here for a week. "Okay, we can go. But we have to get home before dark and you have to promise me you won't get careless and go anywhere on your own."

He put his hands on my shoulders and kissed the side of my head. "I promise," he murmured into my hair.

A/N: Thanks again to all of my readers, reviewers, favers and followers. You really do make my day. Hope you all enjoy this one!


	10. Change Everything You Are

_Change everything you are_

_And everything you were_

_Your number has been called_

**Muse - Butterflies and Hurricanes**

Despite the fact that it was late afternoon when we left to go to dinner the next day, the cloudy February weather made it darker than it should have been. Jack was on guard more than usual, but I had been expecting that. It was a fairly long walk to the diner we had decided on, but it was in the opposite direction to Jack's club, and we both enjoyed the food there, so it was the best choice for us. With the slippery Winter sidewalks, it took us just over half an hour to get there. Ever the gentleman, Jack opened the door for me, casting a final glance over his shoulder as he followed me in. We chose a table away from the windows, and Jack sat facing the door. As if I wasn't already nervous enough about this whole situation, his odd behaviour was putting me even more on edge.

I sighed. "Jack, why don't we just get our food to go, call a cab, and go home? You aren't enjoying this."

He stopped fidgeting and looked at me. "No, it's good to be out. We'll eat here and walk home, like we planned."

"Are you sure? You seem really nervous," I told him.

He forced himself to relax back into his seat. "Sorry," he grinned. "I'll cool it."

I nodded and looked down at the menu the waitress had set in front of me. Jack ordered us each a tea as I browsed the menu. True to his word, Jack was visibly more relaxed as we ordered and ate our food. We chatted about the snow they were forecasting for tomorrow, and he made his usual silly jokes about other people at the diner. All in all, it was a fairly typical meal out for the two of us. As conversation was so light and flowed so easily, and given that we ordered dessert, we ended up leaving the diner much later than we had intended. As a result of that and the gloomy weather, it was also much darker than we'd anticipated.

"Jack, let's call a cab," I urged. "It's freezing, and too long of a walk. It's dark and-"

He cut me off. "It's fine, Sugar. We've done this walk plenty of times in colder weather than this. You're being paranoid. C'mon."

He took me by the elbow and we started for home. As edgy as he had been on the way to the diner, that's how relaxed he seemed on the way home. This time, I was the one jumping at every sound and taking notice of every passing vehicle. Jack kept a steadying hold on my arm as we walked, because the sidewalk was very slippery and a couple of times I nearly fell to the ground. Conversation was clipped, as we were both listening to our surroundings more than usual.

We were nearly home when I heard voices coming from an alley up ahead. I hesitated, causing Jack to stop and look at me quizzically. "Shh," I put a finger to my lips. "I heard someone in the alley," I pointed ahead with the same finger as I whispered.

"Yeah," Jack spoke quietly, as well. "Because we aren't the only two people in the city, despite what we may think at times," he chuckled.

I hit him lightly on the arm. "Shut up, Jack, this isn't a joke."

He sighed irritatedly and looked ahead, tapping his foot on the ground anxiously. "C'mon. Stay close to me," he pulled me into his right side, nearest the road, and we slowly continued our walk. We both breathed a sigh of relief as we got past the alley. "See? I told you there wa-"

"Jack!" I hollered as someone grabbed him and dragged him into the alley, another person throwing me behind him. I would have fallen, but the man who had grabbed Jack steadied me.

"Take it easy," he said roughly. "We got no problem with her," I made to yell. "Now, shut that pretty mouth of yours, or we will," he pointed a finger at me threateningly. My mouth snapped shut in fear.

"Just leave her alone, and let's talk about this," Jack was up against the wall and managed to keep his voice even.

The bigger man, the one who had grabbed Jack, pushed him back roughly into the wall. "Not a word!" He gritted his teeth. I covered my mouth with both hands, tears filling my eyes but not yet spilling over.

The man who had grabbed me was in front of me now, and I saw he had a gun in his hand, pointed at Jack. My heart was pounding. I had no idea fear could be so strong and so painful. Jack had his lips sucked in between his teeth in an effort to keep quiet. "You remember me, don't you, motherfucker?" Asked the big man. Jack nodded. "Yeah, I thought you might. You fucked me out of nearly a hundred grand in that game, do you realize that?" Jack didn't move. The man back-handed him, I gasped loudly. "I asked you a question, asshole, don't ignore me," he said calmly.

"Don't point that at her," Jack said quietly. It was then that I noticed the other guy had his gun pointed at my chest, which he must have done when I'd gasped. Jack got hit again, and I lurched forward before I remembered the gun leveled at me.

"What the fuck did I say? Hmm?" His voice rose slightly. "Now, we don't have a problem with your girl here, but if you keep speakin' outta turn, somethin' bad might happen," there was a suggestive lilt to his voice that made me feel ill. "Now, answer my question."

Jack sighed angrily. "Yes, I realize you lost money on that game," he growled.

"Yeah, you thought that was pretty fuckin' funny then," the big man grumbled. "I don't think that shit-eating grin left your face the whole time."

"I wasn't grinning," Jack shook his head. "Warren said you'd been talking to him. He said-"

The big man cut Jack off. "Don't worry about that weasel Warren. I told him I wouldn't kill ya 'n' I won't. Hey, get over here and hold him," he ordered the smaller man. "And you, don't. Fucking. Move. Got it?" He waved his gun at me as he spoke, and I nodded hurriedly.

The smaller man cautiously walked around me to pin Jack to the wall. I had a brainwave at that moment and remembered the knife in my purse; the one Jack had insisted I carry with me at all times. It seemed crazy to think that I could do something against these two men with just a knife, but I had to try something. I didn't know what they were going to do to Jack. Keeping my eyes fixed on the men threatening and taunting Jack, I slowly and quietly put my hand in my purse. Feeling around, my fingers quickly found the knife. I was a couple of paces behind them, so I would have to be quick about it, otherwise they would hear my feet crunching in the snow as I approached them. I took a long, deep breath before I lunged forward, my knife connecting with the big man's shoulder, making him drop his gun, and my knee connecting with the smaller man's groin as I brought it up between his legs. I grabbed Jack's arm and we started to run. I expected to her a gun shot, or at least hear someone chasing us, but when I glanced over my shoulder at the mouth of the alley, I heard the big man chuckle grimly as he pulled the knife out of his shoulder. I slowed slightly.

"Jack," the man roared. "We'll see to it you get this back, hmm?" The man shook the knife at us and nodded.

"Kaylie, come on!" Jack grabbed my arm this time and pulled me along as we ran.

I was gasping to catch my breath and sobbing by the time we reached our building. We ran straight to the elevator, which had just let one of our neighbours out, and closed the doors behind us, sinking to the floor. As the elevator started up to our floor, Jack hit the emergency stop button, bringing it to a halt. We sat in silence for a moment, both of us winded. Jack was looking nervously from me to the control panel, and I had my eyes fixed on Jack's shoes. Anything to avoid meeting his eyes just now.

"Sugar," he began hoarsely, clearing his throat. "Kaylie, I am so, so sorry. I really thought tha-"

"I know," I cut him off. "Are you okay?" I looked at him finally, taking note of the bruises already forming on his face.

He gave me a sad, half-smile. "I'll live," he mumbled. "Are you?"

I nodded. "Scared."

Jack nodded in return. We sat for another moment before he reached up and started the elevator again. We both stood, and were at our floor a moment later. I unlocked the apartment and we both went inside. Jack locked the door behind us and went straight for the phone to call Warren. I sat down on the sofa and listened.

"Warren? It's Jack," he started. "Guess who jumped me and my girl tonight on our way home? ... That's right. He doesn't seem to be listening to whatever you've been saying... We're alright. He took a knife to the shoulder and we took off... Too close to home, man. How am I supposed to keep us safe? ... You think that's necessary? ... No way, Warren, I can't meet you anywhere. I leave this apartment, I'll be dead, I know it... You sure? Last time you said that... Yeah... Yeah... Tomorrow at Nora's, got it... Yeah." Click.

"What did he say?" I said, moving to stand in front of Jack, placing my hands on his sides.

He sighed heavily and loosely linked his arms around my back. "He wants me armed. He doesn't want me caught out like that again."

I pulled back a bit to look Jack in the eye. "A gun? I don't like the idea of that Jack," I shook my head.

"I know, Sugar, but what am I supposed to do? Those guys attacked us a stone's throw away from our home. We need to be protected," he pulled away and gestured with his arms as he spoke. "I don't know what else to do," he said finally, defeated.

"And he expects you to meet him at the diner tomorrow to get this," I paused, still in disbelief. "Protection?"

He stood straight with his hands on his hips and nodded at me. I shook my head and scoffed before heading to the bedroom. I had my pajamas on before Jack came in. He sat on the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "What do I do?" He asked quietly.

I looked at him. His eyes were cast downward, studying the floor, his hands tented between his knees. I sat myself next to him, hugging him from the side, linking my hands together on his right arm. My chin rested on his shoulder, my forehead on his temple. I couldn't stop a tear from escaping my eye and rolling down my cheek. "I don't know, Wild Card," I answered honestly. "If you need a gun, you're better off with one than without one," I reasoned. "Not having one isn't going to make the danger go away. Having one might keep you safe."

He nodded, then turned on the bed, wrapping his arms around me, he pulled me back until he was lying on the bed with me lying on my stomach on top of him. "I'll go, then. I'll take a cab."

I laid my head on his chest so I could hear his heartbeat, and nodded. "I love you."

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "I love you, Sugar."

I woke up the next morning to an empty bed and looked at the clock. It was past ten, Jack had already left. My stomach sank. I brushed my teeth and fed the cats before going to the kitchen. There was a note on the island. 'Sugar, Didn't want to wake you. Be back soon. Love Jack.' Not knowing what else to do, I started cleaning the apartment. Dusting, washing the windows, mopping the floors. Anything I could do to keep my mind occupied. By the time I was done all that, it was nearly one o'clock. It felt like Jack should have been home by now.

Sighing, my eyebrows knit together with worry, I sat down on the edge of his desk and looked out the window onto the street below. I'd see him on his way home from here, and there was no sign of him yet. I looked at the clock again to make sure I hadn't misread. I hadn't, it was one now. I brought my feet up onto the windowsill and rested my chin on my knees. A few minutes later, I was rewarded with the sight of Jack trudging home in the snow. "Take a cab, my ass," I grumbled. He looked up to the window and when he saw me, gave a wave and a smile. I was so happy to see him, I returned both. He made a snowball and teasingly tossed it up towards the window, missing by a mile. I laughed. He continued to clown around for a moment, and was about to go inside when a black van pulled up to the curb alongside of him and the sliding door flew open. I shouted his name, but he couldn't hear me, and if he could have it wouldn't have made a difference. Two men grabbed him. One of them, the smaller man from last night, the other I didn't recognize. The door closed and the van took off.

I rushed to the phone and picked it up. Jack's voice echoed in my head: "Never call the cops." I slammed the phone down and yelled in frustration. I grabbed my purse and hurriedly left the apartment. If I couldn't call the cops, then I'd have to go talk to someone who could help me. I had to go to the Wild Card Club and track down Warren. This whole mess was his fault. Why couldn't he have just brought the gun to Jack?

I shivered on the curb, as I hadn't thought to grab my jacket and was wearing short sleeves. I hailed a cab for myself and got in quickly when he stopped. "Wild Card Club, please," the driver nodded and drove me right there. I threw some crumpled bills at him and rushed out of the car. I

It wasn't too busy on a Tuesday afternoon, thankfully, so I didn't have to deal with a crowd. I recognized Andy at the bar and quickly approached him. "Kaylie, hey," he said, surprise apparent in his voice. "What are you doing here? Jack's not-"

"I know, I know, I don't have time," I cut him off. "I need to find Warren, is he here?"

"Warren? Kaylie, I can't-" I cut him off again.

"Andy! This is important. Jack's in trouble. I need Warren," I explained. "Now."

Andy looked torn, but ultimately picked up the phone behind the bar with a huff. I heard him mumble a few quick things to someone on the other end before he hung up. "He's here. I can take you to see him," he came around the bar and led me by the elbow. "C'mon."

I followed him through a storage room, where food and booze was kept, and to a small door on the other side. He knocked twice before pushing the door open, gesturing for me to go inside. I did, and was surprised when Andy shut the door behind me without coming in.

"Kaylie," I heard a man's voice say, and turned to see an older man sitting behind a wooden desk. "Jack's Kaylie?" I nodded. "Warren. What's goin' on?"

I took a shaky breath. "Jack was on his way home from his meeting with you today and some men in a van kidnapped him," my voice was unsteady, despite my efforts, worsened by the uneasy feeling of being left in a room with this stranger.

He stood and walked slowly around his desk, bright blue eyes narrowed, greying hair combed back. He was tall, fit and wore a nice suit. "You saw this happen?"

I nodded. "From the window."

"How many men?" He walked past me and pushed a button on the wall by the door.

"At least three?" I guessed. "Two of them pulled him into the van. One of them from last night."

Before he could answer me, someone appeared in the doorway, obviously summoned by that button. "Go get me Roman, Chucky and Zane," the man nodded and left. "Sit down, sweetheart," he gestured to a chair in front of his desk as he walked back around it to sit down himself. He paused before sitting, looking at me. Under his gaze, I sat, after which he followed suit. "So, what can you tell me about this van?"

I shrugged, wringing my hands in my lap. "I don't know. Black. No windows. Couldn't make out the plates."

He nodded. "I figured as much," he picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Gerry. Tell him it's Warren," he smiled kindly at me as he waited for someone on the other end. "Hey, you just pickin' up my guys now?" He said with a dangerous smile in his voice. "We had an agreement, Gerry. He's a good kid, and we got us a worried gal on our hands here," another pause, the smile dropped from his face. "That's not gonna happen," he said darkly. "I want him back alive in one piece, and I want him by tonight, Gerry, or we're gonna have a problem, do you get me?" Warren was nodding as the other man spoke. "Bring him to the docks. We'll be waiting for you," Click.

"What are they doing with Jack?" I asked worriedly.

Warren gave a "calm down" gesture with his hand. "Nothing he hasn't handled before. We're gettin' him back, doll, Gerry doesn't want the kind of trouble he's being offered," he assured me.

"Is there a phone I can use? I need to call my boss," I looked at the clock.

"No, don't do that. Go to work. Everything's fine. One of my boys'll take you in and pick you up, bring you back to where Jack will be," Warren offered.

"I really don't think I'll be of any use to them tonight," I shook my head.

Warren stared me hard in the eye. "Then make yourself of use to them. Go to work. Everything's fine," he repeated slowly.

I nodded, understanding. Soon after that, I was at work. Thankfully a dead Tuesday night. I avoided most conversation under the ruse that I was in a bad mood because of an argument with Jack and everyone left me alone with it, though I was sure to be grilled about it later. The minutes ticked by too slowly, and by the time two A.M. came around, I was so anxious to get out of there to see Jack that I left closing duties to the others and just left.

Warren's guy was waiting for me outside when I got out there and, just as it was on the way to work earlier, the drive was quiet. We weren't driving to my apartment, nor were we driving to the club. I could only assume we were on our way to the docks, where Warren had told Gerry to meet him with Jack. I took a deep breath as an old warehouse came into view and the car pulled to a stop in front of it. I got out of the car, but waited for the driver to lead the way. I followed him to the door and followed him inside after he had opened it. I saw Warren standing and talking to a man wearing surgical gloves and covered from gloves to shirt in fresh blood.

Seeing me enter, Warren took his leave of the conversation and approached me. "We need to talk."

A/N - Hey guys! Sorry for taking so long updating. I have had the chapter done for a while, but wasn't happy with it, so I've been doing lots of editing the past few days. Next one shouldn't take so long to get up. Thanks go to all reading, reviewing, faving and following, who continue to make me smile. Hope you all like this chapter!


	11. Changing The Shape Of His Face

_What do I see across the way?_

_See myself molded in clay_

_Stares at me, yeah I'm afraid_

_Changing the shape of his face_

**Alice in Chains - Angry Chair**

At Warren's words, I could feel the blood drain from my face. This wasn't right. Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. Tentatively, I stepped forward, close to Warren who placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Where's Jack?" I whispered, searching his eyes for any hint of what may be going on.

"He's here," he answered shortly, nodding.

A small amount of relief. "Alive?" Another nod from Warren, who caught me as my knees turned to jelly at the relief.

"Whoa, whoa, hey," he eased me gently to the floor. "Easy, doll. Ya with me?" I blinked my eyes to his and nodded once. "They cut him again, babe," he gestured across his lips with his finger. "Real bad. We had to stitch him up. Got him knocked out now so he ain't feelin' none of it," I didn't move as he spoke. This couldn't be real. This had to be a nightmare. I stared expressionless at his face as he continued. "He lost some blood. A lot of blood, really, and -"

Warren was cut off by a blood-curdling, inhuman scream coming from somewhere up a set of metal stairs. I launched myself from the floor and threw Warren's protesting hands from my shoulders, shooting a look back at him that had him reluctantly put his hands before himself defensively. I ran to the stairs. Some men made to stop me, but Warren must have said something to stop them, as I made it to the stairs and up them without and obstacles. All I could hear was the screaming. Jack's screaming. And the muffled voices of people trying to subdue him.

I found the room easily, but unprepared for the horror I was about to face. There was my Jack, with strength he oughtn't have been able to possess in his state, trying to fight off four people who were pushing him down to a bed. The room was bright, white but streaked everywhere with blood. His blood. His screaming went on and on. Like his smile. But he wasn't smiling. Yet there it was. Wide, red, harsh and ugly. Black stitches torn and hanging from several spots along the wounds. For the second time, I felt my legs grow weak and for the second time, Warren - who must have followed me up the stairs - caught me before I hit the ground, shushing me gently as my loud, red and white world went black and quiet.

I awoke with a start, disoriented, in a darkened room on a musty, lumpy bed. Dim light streamed in through an open door and through the heavy curtains on the window. I heard the muffled sounds of conversation from somewhere outside the door. Eyes adjusting to the light, I took in my surroundings, realizing my throat was dry when my eyes fell on a glass of water, I grabbed it and drank it greedily down. I licked my lips as I set the glass back down on the table beside the bed. My lips. "Jack!" I gasped, standing. I took a moment to steady myself before walking slowly, but with purpose, out the door.

Warren saw me a second before I saw him and ended what appeared to be a heated telephone conversation as he made his way over to me. "Kaylie," he greeted tiredly. "I-"

"Jack," I cut him off. "Where's Jack?"

He nodded understandingly and took me gently by the shoulders, leading me to the staircase I had ascended earlier. "This way," I could tell he hadn't slept. His voice was hard and strained. "He's not conscious," he warned me as we climbed the stairs.

"How long was I?" I asked him.

"Just a few hours," he informed me, sounding almost jealous. "It's only 8." I nodded my understanding as we reached the door, which was closed now. "There's a chair in there. Stay calm, doll. I'm gonna go grab you something to eat. No arguments," he insisted as I opened my mouth to protest. "I'll be back in a bit."

I took a deep breath as Warren left me at the door and braced myself for what I was about to walk into. I closed my eyes and willed myself not to burst into tears right there before I brought my hand to the doorknob. Another breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, before I slowly pushed the door open.

I took in the room before I looked at Jack. The blood was absent from the walls, and from his bedding. Someone had cleaned up. I was glad for that. Bracing myself once more, I let my eyes reach Jack's face. Both cheeks were, thankfully, covered in white bandages. His skin was almost grey. He looked terrible. He needed to be in the hospital, but I knew that wasn't going to happen. I looked at the table to his right and there was a glass of water with a straw in it. Had he been awake? I wondered to myself. The glass was full, and there wasn't any blood on it or the straw, so I assumed he hadn't been. The room wasn't as bright as it had been earlier, the only light coming from a window across the room.

I made my way to the chair on his left side and pulled it close to the bed, resting my right elbow on the table on this side and resting my tired, heavy head in my hand. I mindlessly started drawing shapes and spirals on his left arm with my left hand, barely touching his skin, just enough to tell myself he's really there. Tears sprang to my eyes as a started to hum an unknown tune quietly to him. How was this real? Why was this real? I sniffled and wiped my eyes with my left hand, bringing my head down to kiss his arm where I had been touching him. I put my head back in my hand and kept my eyes on Jack's face, crossing my legs and resting my left hand on them, occasionally raising it to wipe unfallen tears from my eyes.

I don't know how long I sat like that, staring silently at the love of my life, but some time later there was a quiet knock at the door and an unfamiliar cough announcing someone's arrival. I jerked my head from my hand in surprise and looked to the door. A big, black-haired smiled slightly and spoke, "Name's Art. I'm takin' care-a ya boy here," he explained casually.

"You a doctor, Art?" I asked, unexpected venom in my voice.

He stepped into the room and shrugged bringing his hands up and shaking them from side to side, as if saying "sort of" as he walked to the other side of Jack's bed. "They call me Doc," he half-chuckled. "I take care of things. I'm trained. I know what I'm doin'," he assured me, which wasn't very reassuring at all.

"He needs a doctor," I sighed, exasperated. "Even I can see he's lost too much blood."

Art smiled apologetically and went about checking on Jack. As he was doing this, Warren walked through the door holding a brown paper bag and a tray with two coffees. He paused as he entered, looking between Art and I, clearly sensing the tension, before coming to set the food and drinks on the table next to me, pulling a second chair up to it and sitting with his back to the wall on the other side of the table. "Problem?" He asked simply.

I turned my head so I could glare at him. "Jack needs more help than you can provide, Warren," I explained, taking the lid off of one of the coffees so I could empty three sugars into it.

"That's never true," Warren insisted, taking a sip of his coffee. "How's he lookin' Doc?"

Art looked to his boss and shrugged. "He's comin' around," he nodded. I noticed he was removing one of the bandages from Jack's face, the right side, and I couldn't help but watch. The cut beneath was gruesome. Art noticed me looking and spoke up. "Between the scar tissue and him ripping the stitches out yesterday, this is the best we could do," he explained sadly.

I grimaced and turned to Warren. "He needs to go to a hospital, Warren, and-"

"Nuh..." My head snapped around to see Jack slowly shaking his head back and forth. His voice simultaneously high and hoarse. "Nuh, Kay... Nuh..." His eyes opened slightly and met mine.

"Jack!" I took his hand, as he was weakly lifting his arm to me.

"Uhll ve fine," he was trying to reassure me. "Nuh hos-i-tal," he shook his head again. I could see him growing weaker again.

"Okay, baby," I nodded. "No hospital. I love you," I croaked.

Jack nodded once, apparently relieved. "Luh... you..." He slurred out before fading away to unconsciousness once again.

I cried now, really cried. Tears of relief because he woke up. Tears of sadness because he passed out again. Tears of anger because this happened. And tears of resignation at how it was having to be handled.

"We're taking care of it, doll," Warren spoke grimly, a gentle hand unwelcome on my back as I cried into my hands.

I looked up, face contorted with rage and turned to Warren, speaking to him between sobs. "You'd... Fucking... Better..."

A/N - Hey everyone! So sorry for not updating sooner! That was terrible of me to leave it like this for so long. I also apologize for the short chapter. The next one will be longer, I promise. And I hope to have it up this weekend, Monday at the latest. Thanks to all reading, reviewing, faving and following. Hope you had good holidays!


	12. I'm The Changingman

_I'm the changingman, built on shifting sands_

_(I don't have a plan)_

_I'm the changingman, waiting for the bang_

_To light a bitter fuse_

**Paul Weller - The Changingman**

The next couple days are rough, with Jack fading in and out of consciousness. It is four more days before he is actually awake and himself for any amount of time. Relief floods through me when I return to his room one morning (from the one I had continued sleeping in) to see him chatting awkwardly with Warren. He's moving his hands as he speaks, and his voice is distorted because he has to be so careful as he moves his mouth. His face - what I can see of it - lights up when he sees me.

"Sugar!" He rasps, and I'm at his side, clutching his left hand to my lips.

"Jack!" I smile brightly at him. "You're awake!"

He cringes as he tries to keep from smiling, and I hate that such a joyous expression is able to cause him such discomfort. "Yeah, so they tell me," he chuckles in his throat.

"Can I get you anything?" I offer dumbly.

"They got it covered, Sugar," he winks and he's Jack. I just want to kiss him, but I can't. I settle for kissing his hand again, instead. "Bring some of that up here," he looks upwards, indicating his forehead and I am quick to oblige, placing a long, gentle kiss onto his brow. "Ah, yeah, that's the stuff," he winks, again, as I sit back down. "Who needs painkillers?"

"How are you?" I want to keep him talking, afraid he may fade out again, otherwise, despite his alertness.

"From the neck down, I'm golden, Kayl," he jokes darkly; bitterly. "From the nose up, I'm good," he looks at me from underneath heavy lids and I can see he's angry. It's understandable, but unsettling. "Besides that, I'm hurtin'. Can't seem to shake this smile, though," he gestures towards his face with his right hand, then picks up his glass of water, takes a sip, and throws it across the room making me jump. Jack sits there fuming, clenching and unclenching his now empty hand and it looks to me like he's forcing his mouth to stay closed.

Warren, who had been quiet to that point, calls someone into the room to clean up the mess and walks to Jack's side once again. "We'll find these pricks, Jack," he promises again.

Jack glares at him. "Might want to wait on that," he sing-songs, hitting the last 't' hard in that way of his. "They're mine."

Jack's dark mood softens after that, and after a few more days he is in relatively good spirits, considering all that has happened. I return to work now that Jack is awake, as I had refused to go while he was in and out of consciousness. I return home one evening and Jack is sitting in his room, on the chair I usually use, he's dressed with a remote in his hand and a small TV flickering in the corner. His hair is greasy and in his face, but the most astounding thing is that they've removed his bandages. I can see his new smile in all its hideous glory. The skin around the stitching is puckered and raw. They're red and look terribly uncomfortable. He catches me staring.

"Can you live with 'em?" He asks sadly, sighing. He turns the TV off and stretches to his feet. He takes a few slow steps and he's in front of me, pulling me to him by the waist.

I cautiously bring the fingers of my right hand to his jaw, careful not to touch his new grin. I nod and my breath catches in my throat when he turns his face to kiss my fingertips. "Can't live without you," I assure him.

He presses his lips lightly to my forehead and pulls back, searching my eyes, before tilting my head back and leaning in for a kiss. My eyes flutter close as his lips meet mine and I hold myself back from deepening the kiss. I touch my fingers to his greasy hair and tug playfully as he breaks the kiss. "You need a shower, there, Wild Card."

He raises an eyebrow and pulls his lips in to keep from breaking into a smile, which breaks my heart once more. "Yeah, it's been awhile, Sugar," he admits with a sigh. "They don't trust me to stand that long yet. There's no tub here, just a shower," he explains.

"I can help you," I offer, blushing as he again raises his eyebrow, this time allowing his mouth to pull back slightly into a small smile, grimacing as he's reminded why he can't do that.

"If I take you up on that, Miss Cameron," he begins lightly, pulling me close to him once more. "You have to make sure to remain professional at all times. I'm a sick man, I doubt I have the strength to fight off your advances. I'm irresistible naked, you know."

I roll my eyes at him. "Yeah, I remember," I reply, a laugh in my voice. I laugh again when he nods, eyebrows high on his face. "Well, it's a risk I'm willing to take if you are?" Jack nods, trying still not to smile.

A knock sounds on the door and Warren breezes in, smiling when he sees our embrace. "That's good to see," he says genuinely, and as angry as I still am with him, I return his smile.

"Kaylie was just going to help me get cleaned up a bit," Jack explains.

"That sounds like a good idea to me," Warren agrees. "You know where the shower is, doll?" I shake my head. I had still been going home to feed the cats, shower, and update my family on what's going on. Not the details, just that Jack was mugged and is recuperating under care at his boss's place. I haven't even told them the extent of the injuries yet. "You go towards the stairs, right past them all the way to the corner?" He points as he talks, I nod my understanding. "It's the door right there in the corner."

"The one with the shower?" Jack confirmed dryly.

Warren barked a laugh. "That'll be the one, Jackie-boy," he pats Jack none-too-gently on the shoulder, then points at Jack with his thumb and addresses me. "What a joker, eh? Good to have him back, isn't it, doll?"

"Never should've had to be without him," I remark, smile on my lips not reaching my eyes.

The shower sputters to life and cold water sprays from the showerhead, gradually warming up. Jack undresses behind me. When I turn around, he is just in his briefs and he's regarding me with desire. "C'mon, Jack," I sigh, trying to lead him by the shoulder to the shower. He doesn't budge, but he does smirk. "Jack! The water's warm, come on," I urge.

He takes a step towards me, playing with the hem of my shirt. "I don't know if I can stand by myself," he mutters facetiously. "Come in with me."

I shake my head at him. "Jack, do you really think this is the time?"

He feigns innocence. "The time for what? I just want some help in the shower."

I sigh and look up at him. He has his head cocked to the side as though contemplating something and he's looking at me through heavy eyes. I raise my hands and he wordlessly removes my shirt. "I'm just helping you in the shower, Jack, you need your strength."

"All I'm asking," he shrugs as I continue to undress. Soon I'm naked in front of him and he smirks with his eyes as he removes his briefs, the desire also apparent there. He backs me into the shower and pulls the curtain around us. "Oh, Kaylie," he sighs tiredly and pulls me tightly into his arms, hugging me like it's the first and last time. I feel suddenly overwhelmed with a need to be close to him and return the tight hug, feeling my throat tighten with emotion. "I don't even know how long it's been, Sugar, but it feels like forever," he pulls back from me and I see him wince out of the way of the water as a droplet runs down his cheek and into his new grin.

"We can't do this right now, Jack," I shake my head. "You need your strength," at his disappointed look, an idea comes to my mind, and I grab the shampoo/body wash from under the showerhead. "Tilt your head back," I instruct him, squeezing some into my palm. "Carefully," I put it through his hair, gently working it into a lather. I'm careful not to tug or pull, or to let any of the soap onto his face. Reaching over the both of us, I detach the showerhead and rinse the suds back from his head and down the drain. "Okay?" I check, and he nods his reply. "Stand up," he rights himself, pushing his hands over his hair to wring out some of the water, and looks down at me as I squeeze more soap into my hand.

Starting at his shoulders, I scrub down his arms, then wrap my arms around him to wash down his back and over his buttocks, he smirks slightly as I do this, which is followed by another pained grimace. "Okay?" I repeat. Again he nods, and I continue to wash him. I bring my hands back around to the front and wash down his chest and stomach, but no further down. He raises his eyebrow yet again as I kiss his chin.

Taking the body wash with me, I lower myself to the shower floor. I squeeze some more into my hand and, starting with each foot and going to his hips, I wash his legs. The water is at my back and his eyes are dark and staring down at me. I squeeze a small amount of soap into my hand. "Tell me if it's too much," I say quietly and he groans as I bring my lather-covered hands to his erection. Up and down I wash it, watching him carefully that he doesn't seem to be losing strength. When he is clean, I duck to one side and let the water rinse him off. He looks at me darkly as I move back into the spray and meet his eyes again. "Okay?" I ask finally, and he nods once. He throws his head back as I take him into my mouth and his left hand grabs my shoulder tightly as I work him over with my tongue. I hear him groan again through barely-parted lips a fraction of a second before his salty spray hits my tongue. I swallow it down and release him from my mouth, glancing up at him.

His eyes are screwed shut and his hand still clamped painfully onto my shoulder, preventing me from standing. I push up against it, and it tightens and pushes me back down. "Wait!" He barks, shocking me, and I realize he's using me to keep himself steady.

"I said to tell me," I quietly remind him and his dark eyes open and fall on mine.

"I needed that," he whispers harshly, moving his hand to my upper arm and pulling me to him. He crashes his lips to mine with no regard for his injuries and I almost expect to taste blood, but I don't. I just taste Jack. I feel his stitches scratch on my face just before he remembers himself and pulls away again, breathing heavily and looking pained. "Thank you," he breathes, stroking down my arm and taking my hand in his. "I love you, Sugar."

I smile sadly at him, not knowing what to feel in this moment. But, I love Jack, and so I say I do, opening the shower curtain and stepping back onto the cold tile of the bathroom floor. He follows me out and we dry one another lovingly, then dress in silence.

The following Sunday, after going out to get some clean clothes for Jack and some food, I return to the sound of an angry, heated argument upstairs. I hurry up to find out what the problem is, pausing outside the door when I hear Jack's voice.

"I don't care," he says, his voice bitter and furious. "This -" a pause. "- is on someone!" He hollers.

"I understand that, Jack," Warrens voice is even, trying to calm Jack. "We're looking. Everybody's looking. We'll find them."

"What the fuck does that mean?" The laugh following the question is humorless and not Jack's, though I know it comes from him. "You'll find them, and you'll bring them to me, Warren. This isn't a fuckin' game of hide and seek," another bout of erratic laughter. "I should have been armed, or have you forgotten? Hmm?"

"No, Jack, I remember," Warren sighs. He wasn't there? Jack went to get a gun from Warren that day, didn't he show up? "We'll find 'em, and they're all yours. Anything you want, Jackie-boy, it's yours."

"Yeah, don't fuckin' call me that, for starters," the humor in his tone is genuine now. He sighs. "Keep looking. As soon as you find them - any of them - you let me know," I decide that now is a good time to make an appearance, so I walk into the room. "Hey, Kayl," Jack says suspiciously, eyes narrowed.

"Hey," I try to sound bright, but it sounds forced. I hold Jack's clothes out to him. "Put what you have on in the bag when you change, I'll wash them tomorrow," I put the bag of sandwiches on the bed. "Can he come home yet, Warren?" I ask tiredly.

Warren smirks and I want to punch him. "I'll talk to Doc. See what we can do," he nods and pats me once on the arm before leaving the room.

I turn to Jack, who is taking the clean clothes from the bag. "You never met with Warren that day?"

He pauses, eyes narrowing at me again, and I can see him prodding with his tongue at the stitches inside his mouth. "What do you think took so long? I must have called him ten times. He got tied up with something. All said and done, we had to push the meeting off."

"Fucking asshole," I whisper irately. "This whole thing could have been avoided if-"

"You think I don't know that, Kayl?" Jacks anger matches mine as he turns to face me fully. "I know. He knows. Why he's working double-time to get these pricks."

That reminds me of something else. "Why do you want them, Jack?" I ask cautiously. "What are you going to do?"

His cheek twitches and his eyes blaze. When he speaks, his voice is low and purposeful. "I'll im-pro-vise."

A/N: Hope this one is to your liking, guys! First glimpse of the Joker here and there. Thanks to all reading, reviewing, faving and following.


	13. Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

_Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes_

_Turn and face the strange_

_Ch-ch-changes_

_Don't want to be a richer man_

_Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes_

_Turn and face the strange_

_Ch-ch-changes_

_Just gonna have to be a different man_

_Time may change me_

_But I can't trace time_

**David Bowie - Changes**

I blink at him, momentarily thrown off by his vehemence. "Jesus, Jack," I whisper. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He shoots me a glare that should have sent any sensible person running, but this was my Jack, and he had every right to be angry. "You can't just..." I trail off.

"Can't just, what, Kayl? Hmm?" His tone is mocking. "These people carved my face," he reminds me slowly. "There is no getting the law involved. This isn't Warrens to deal with. It's mine and I-" He stops abruptly, contemplating. His eyes searching the room for his lost words.

"You what, Jack?" I press him. "Tell me."

His eyes meet mine again and they're dark with rage. "I want it," he murmurs so quietly I barely hear him. "I. Want. It." He repeats, louder this time, hard on the 't's.

"Jack-" I take a fast step towards him and reach for him, wanting so badly to reason with him, but he bats my hands away and keeps me at arm's length with a point of his finger.

"No, Kaylie, no," he shakes his head. "I didn't get it the first time. I was just a fucking kid. I had no clue. These people? Babe, these fucking people deserve the worst. I'll show 'em. If Warren doesn't find 'em, I will, and they. Will. Pay," he is seething at this point, and I am speechless. My Jack is talking about harming - killing? - these people for what they've done to him. I touch my fingers to my mouth and l lower myself onto the bed. Jack pulls the chair in front of me and sits down. He leans forward in the chair and looks up into my downcast eyes. "Sugar, this has to happen," his voice is gentler, and it seems like he is trying to reason with me now. "There has to be some sort of balance. It can't just all be..." He's searching for words again, reaching out with his right hand as if hoping to snatch them from the air.

I leap to my feet and push my way past Jack to the door. "Chaos? Jack, welcome to life," I laugh bitterly. "It's chaotic. Bad things? They happen. Good things happen, too. How you deal with them says a lot more about you than it does anything else," he's glaring at me from the chair, fidgeting with his mouth and tapping his fingers on his legs. "I can't even begin to understand what you've been through. What that must have been like. I... But, Jack," I pause. "You are better than this. And right now? I need some air," I shake my head. "I'm sorry."

I turn and leave the room, not looking back when I hear what must have been the chair hitting the wall. I dash down the stairs and out the door without even looking at Warren, who I am sure was puzzled by the turn of events. When I get outside, I take a moment to collect myself before starting towards a pay phone nearby.

"Hey!" I hear a voice and jogging footsteps behind me, so I turn. "You don't need to call anybody. I'm headin' out. Goin' home?" It is one of the men who had driven me before. I couldn't remember his name, but I nod at him and follow him towards his car. "Y'alright?" He asks awkwardly. I nod again. He doesn't pry further as we get into the vehicle, and the ride home is blissfully quiet. I thank him when we get back to my building.

I take the elevator to my floor. I feel more exhausted now than I have in ages. I drag my feet into the apartment and half-heartedly greet the cats when they come to the door. I turn on the kettle and pull myself up to sit on the counter beside it, staring off at nothing while the water boils. I take a mug from the drying rack and make myself a tea without getting up. It grows cold in my hands before I take the first sip, and before I know it, my apartment is drenched in darkness.

I sit on my countertop holding a cold, half-drank tea when I hear the sound of keys jingling in my door. My eyebrows knit together and finally, I slide stiffly off the counter, setting my tea on the island as I slowly walk towards the door. As I reach it, it pushes open a couple of inches, catching on the chain lock. I hear a defeated sigh from the other side of the door.

"Kaylie?" Of course, it's Jack. "You awake?"

"Yeah," I mumble hoarsely. "Just a sec," I push the door closed long enough to slide the lock out of place before I pull it open. Jack is standing there looking as tired as I feel. "Hey," I mutter awkwardly, crossing my arms in front of me.

"Hey," he replies, just as awkwardly, stepping inside and pushing the door closed behind him. "You okay?" He asks cautiously, clearly not wanting to trigger another fight.

"I don't know," I shrug. "Are you?"

He looks over at the wall and pushes his fist into it gently, pounding out a rhythm. "I'm..." Thump, thump, thump. "... Angry." Thump. "It's not your fault," he looks at me sadly and thumps his hand twice more before bringing it to my face and caressing my cheek. I don't pull away. "I don't know what I'm going to do," he admits. "But I like what you said about chaos. Things just happen," he runs his thumb from the corner of my lip outwards. "You happened to me, Sugar," his hand drops to his side. "I love you, Kaylie. We'll figure it out," and he's Jack again. Standing before me in our entryway, leaning wearily against the wall.

I close the short distance between us and kiss his chin. "I felt like I was losing you today," I tell him, trying to contain my emotions. "I felt like you were already gone," my voice cracks.

He looks down at me and tilts my head up with the knuckle of his index finger. "I'm not goin' anywhere, Kayl," he assures me. "I'm just trying to keep up," He kisses me softly at first, but deepens it with a growing intensity, backing me into the apartment. He is dropping layers of clothes as we make our way to the bedroom, and he makes fast work of mine when we get there. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, we're together fully and completely. It truly is bliss.

I awake feeling rested the next morning. It's a feeling I had almost forgotten. It is clouded by the fact that the other side of the bed is empty and cold. I stretch and sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and standing up. I pad to the bathroom door, which is where I find Jack. He has the tap running, but doesn't seem to be doing anything other than regarding his face in the mirror. He hasn't heard me wake up. I take the opportunity to watch him. His face is serious as he studies it. One side, then the other, then back again. He runs his fingers along his smile, not with anger, sadness or bitterness, but with curiosity. It's as though he's trying to acquaint himself with his own features. The idea is foreign to me, but I've never been thrust into a situation where I'm left not knowing my own face.

I cautiously approach the door, not wanting to startle him, and push it open slowly just a little bit farther, allowing myself to walk in. He saw the movement and has frozen, watching me from the mirror. I'm standing half behind him, half beside him and I hug his right arm to myself, gripping his hand in mine and kissing his upper arm before resting my head there and smiling softly at him in the mirror.

"Can you live with them?" I repeat his question from days ago.

He pulls his arm out of my grip and then moves me so that I'm standing in front of him, but still facing the mirror. He embraces me tightly and kisses my hair, inhaling deeply as he does so. "Time will tell," he jokes, eyes crinkling as he reached forward to turn off the tap.

"How long have you been up?" I ask, playing my fingers along his strong, lean arms absentmindedly.

"Not long," he replied. "Got up to piss and caught sight of myself while washing my hands," that explained the running water. "Not many mirrors at the warehouse," he mentions sadly. "It's gonna take some getting used to, Sugar."

I turn to face him and bring my hands up to his face, asking permission with my eyes. His eyebrows knit together, but he nods. Ever so gently, barely touching his face, I trail my fingers just underneath each wound. I start at his lip and work slowly outwards to the uneven corners of his extended mouth, and follow the line back inward along the top of them. When I reach his lip again, I softly cup his face in my hands. Feather lightly, I run my thumbs over his will-be scars and lean up to kiss him firmly, but not roughly, on the lips. The kiss is short, but pointed, and when I pull back, his eyes are closed. "Not for me, Wild Card," I promise. His eyes open and burn passionately into mine. "Not for me," I promise again.

His lips are on mine again in an instant, forceful, needy and hot. He lifts me up by the backs of my legs and sits me on the edge of the countertop, pulling my nightshirt up as he does so. I push his pajama pants down to his knees with my feet and pull him to me with my heels on his backside. With a little bit of guidance he is inside of me. This isn't the gentle, overdue, celebration of survival of the night before, this is unbridled need for the most intimate contact. It is over quickly and noisily, both of us wailing in gasps of air as we climax. We stay that way for a long time. Locked together, breathing heavily. His forehead is on mine and I can feel his breath on my cheek. My eyes are closed. I believe his are, as well. Slowly, I lower my legs from Jack, releasing him from me. He takes one step back and offers me a lazy grin and a wink. He takes my hand and pulls me forward and off the countertop. I land on weak legs in front of the man I love and he pulls me into another tight hug. His arms are across my shoulders and lower back, pinning me to him. His lips are in my hair muttering wordlessly between kisses. In that moment, I feel like an anchor. And if that's what he needs me to be, than that's what I am. For him I'd be anything.

We're sitting at our usual spots at the island eating breakfast in a comfortable silence. I'm reading the paper. From time to time I look up to find Jack watching me. He smiles and winks with a mouthful of cereal. When our bowls are empty, I stand to put them in the sink. I'm rinsing them out when I hear Jack clear his throat.

"Let's get married," he suggests confidently. "Why wait? Let's just do it."

"What?" I turn to face him, surprise evident on my face. "What's brought this on?"

He shrugs, small smile still dancing on his lips. "I love you," he answers simply. "We nearly lost this," he continues in a quiet, almost angry, voice. "We don't need a big wedding, we just need each other. So let's do it. Get your family, we'll go down to the courthouse, whatever," I'm still gaping at him, too shocked to say anything, so he carries on. "Listen, if we want to have a real wedding some other time, fine. Getting married now doesn't take that off the table. I just want to make you my wife," he concludes. "What d'ya say, Sugar?"

I regain my composure and smile at him. "You're a very persuasive man, Mr. Napier," I take his hand across the island. "And I say the same thing I said the first time you asked me. Yes. I love you. Let's do it."

He practically leaps over the island to capture my lips in a passionate kiss. I don't know how he can keep doing that without hurting himself, but he doesn't seem to care. When he pulls back, he is beaming. "Your Mom's going to be pissed," he chuckles. I laugh with him, then grow more serious. "What?"

"I haven't told them about," I gently touch my hand to his face, running my thumb along his extended smile once more. "I told them you were mugged; that you'd been hurt. But not the extent of it."

His face is contemplative a moment before he nods and smiles. "We'll tell them. Did you want to call 'em, or maybe we should invite them over? Feed them, placate them before we reveal our marital intention," his voice is full of humor and it's contagious. I laugh with him.

"I think that sounds like a good idea. We'll invite them over. The works of them. Make a party of it," I suggest.

Jack nods and it's settled. I call my mother and we make plans for the following Sunday. I warn her on the phone about the extent of Jack's injuries. That his scars had been opened up. She is shocked that someone would do that, but appreciates that I didn't have them show up blind. She promises that everyone will come, and she even sounds a bit like she's looking forward to it.

Jack and I don't have much trouble slipping back into our old routine. With the exception of Jack not going back to work yet. He's also smoking a bit more frequently and his teas are more and more often coffees. Besides that, things are the same. He even meets me at the bottom of the stairs after work to walk me back to the apartment. However, after my shift on Friday, I am met with an all-too-familiar gut-wrenching feeling when I open the door to our building and he is nowhere to be seen. I hurry to the elevator and rush to the apartment door, throwing it open in a panic.

I am surprised when I see Jack and Art both jump in shock when the door hits the wall. Jack reflexively looks at the clock on the microwave. "Fuck," he hisses. "Sorry, Sugar, house call," he points to Art who has something metal in his hand. "Lost track of time."

"Is everything okay?" Relief washes over me and I can't even be irritated.

"Oh, yeah, Kaylie, everythin's fine," Art assures me, pointing what I now see are small, medical scissors of some kind towards Jack. "Just untying the laces."

"Watch where you jab those things, asshole," Jack laughs. Art responds by pulling his arm back and making to "stab" Jack in slow motion.

"It's time? Already?" I look between them. Jack nods and turns his face. The side that had been facing away from me is already free of stitches. I take in a breath. "Wow..." I walk around to that side and gently touch the scar that remains. It is still a bit rough where it is healing, but much smoother without the hard stitches. I place a gentle kiss at the top corner of it. Jack looks sideways at me with a smirk.

"We're almost done, Sugar," he informs me. "Don't distract me."

I back off and sit against the arm of the sofa, so I can still see Jack. "Ready?" Art confirms. Jack nods and becomes incredibly still. His eyes move about the room as Art slowly snips stitch after stitch. He wipes each one with a cloth Jack is holding and hands it back to him before gripping them one by one with tweezers and sliding them out of Jack's face. When they're all out, he carefully wipes the length of the scar that remains. He ducks down so that he's close to Jacks face and moves his head back and forth, examining the smile. "Best I can do, brother," he says with a sigh.

"It's fine, Doc," Jack pats him on the shoulder standing up. "Thanks," he turns to me and put his arms out a bit, palms up. "Ta-dah!" He exclaims. I push myself off the sofa arm and walk to him. I touch the other scar as I had the first and stand on my toes to kiss it, as well.

Art clears his throat. We turn to see him standing there awkwardly with a tube of some kind of cream. "This'll help with the itching," he hands the cream to Jack. "Really, that should be easin' up here soon. You shoulda called, man," he admonishes Jack. "Besides that, take it easy for a bit. You back to work anytime soon?"

Jack shakes his head. "Not 'til I hear from Warren."

Art nods his approval. "Good. You don't need that shit right now. You need anything, man, you call," he aims his finger pointedly at Jack and then raises his eyebrows at me until I nod my understanding, as well.

"Yeah, yeah," Jack huffs, patting Art on the back as he walks him to the door. "See ya 'round, Doc."

"Later, brother," Art responds kindly. "Bye sweetheart," he calls to me.

"Good night, Art!" I shout to him just before Jack closes the door. When he turns around and walks back into the room, I can see him working his tongue along the insides of his scars with a pensive expression on his face. "Why so serious, Wild Card?" I ask him, taking his hand and stopping him in his tracks in front of me.

He wraps his arms around my waist and smiles. "Better?"

I nod. "How do they feel?" I ask timidly.

He frowns once more in contemplation. "I don't know," he moves his tongue along them again, flicking it out at the corners before he speaks. "Foreign, mostly. The old ones weren't so-" he gives another lick. "Prominent," he hits the "t" as he tends to do. "Nice to have the stitches out, though," he sighs. He pulls out of my embrace to sit down on the sofa. I curl up on the chair across from him. He is quiet for a moment; lost in thought, before he speaks again. "They still have no idea where to find these guys," he reveals quietly. "Doc told me."

I am secretly glad. "How do you feel about that?" I ask cautiously.

His eyes are ablaze when they meet mine, and I have my answer before he even speaks. He isn't going to let this go. "I can wait," he says in a much softer tone than his eyes had me expecting. "For now."

I nod at him, not wanting to pick the issue apart again. I yawn. "I'm going to crash, I think, Jack," I stand up and stretch. "It was a busy night, and I'm beat. You comin'?"

He sits there nodding to himself for a few seconds and I get the impression that he's irritated with me, though I couldn't say why. As quickly as the irritation comes, it leaves, and his face softens visibly as he stands. "In a minute, Sugar, I think I'll read for a bit," he points a thumb towards his desk and I step forward, kissing him softly on the lips. He puts one of his hands on my hip and grips tightly, pulling me into him as he deepens the kiss.

"I love you," I breathe as we pull apart. "You'll be in soon?"

He nods, caressing my face before catching my nose gently between two fingers. "Love you."

A/N - A little bit more Joker for you, guys. Hope you're liking it. Thanks, again, to all of you for reading, reviewing, faving and following. I was really tickled with the reviews on this one, and I appreciate it so much. I'm glad you're enjoying it :-)


	14. The Times They Are a-Changin

_Come gather 'round people_

_Wherever you roam_

_And admit that the waters_

_Around you have grown_

_And accept it that soon_

_You'll be drenched to the bone_

_If your time to you_

_Is worth savin'_

_Then you better start swimmin'_

_Or you'll sink like a stone_

_For the times they are a-changin'._

_The line it is drawn_

_The curse it is cast_

_The slow one now_

_Will later be fast_

_As the present now_

_Will later be past_

_The order is_

_Rapidly fadin'_

_And the first one now_

_Will later be last_

_For the times they are a-changin'._

**Bob Dylan**

I awake alone. Again, Jack's side of the bed is cold. It is early in the morning, barely light out. There is a chill in the air that must have woken me up. I tiredly walk over to the thermostat and turn it up a little bit and put my robe around my shoulders before wandering out in search of Jack. I find him in the living room at his desk. The lamp is on, and the television is flickering away on some breakfast show that Jack isn't even looking at. Stanley is curled up sleeping contentedly on his lap as he scribbles furiously in a notebook. He looks up when he hears me step into the room. "Mornin'," he grumbles sleepily.

"Didn't come to bed?" I walk over to him and rub my hand from one shoulder to the other across his back. He pushes back into the contact and groans.

"No," he admits. "I couldn't get my head around sleeping for some reason," he chuckles and rubs his hand down his face.

"It happens," I turn and rest back against his desk, gazing down at him as he gazes up at me. "Can I make you something to eat?"

He shakes his head and kisses my hand. "No, Sugar, don't worry about that," he drops his pen down onto the book. "I was just going to crash, anyway, and you look like you could use a few more hours," he winks with a devilish grin.

I slap his chest playfully as he stands up, Stanley jumping off his lap as he does. "Gee, thanks, Romeo," I laugh.

He shrugs with his hands in the air. "What can I say, Sugar? I'm a romantic."

"Yeah, well, come on, Casanova, it's freezing in there and I need your body heat," I shiver exaggeratedly and start towards the bedroom, Jack trailing behind me, still holding my hand.

"You are my favourite parasite," he jokes fondly.

I laugh again. "Be still my heart."

As I hang up my robe, Jack fetches an extra blanket and throws it over top of the other one on the bed before climbing under the covers. The radiator has warmed the room marginally, but we have to be conscious of the bills, so I turn it back down again before diving under with him, curling tightly into his side.

"Jesus Christ, woman!" He exclaims in shock. "Why're there blocks of ice at the ends of your legs?" He jerks his legs away as I teasingly run my icy feet along them and laugh. "C'mere," he rolls onto his side and wraps his arms around me, tightening the blankets around us as he goes, effectively cocooning us in them. He kisses the tip of my nose and then rests his chin on my head. "Take all you need, Sugar."

I smile and kiss his chest, weaving my left arm through his and closing my eyes. I drift to sleep much more easily, and sleep much more soundly, with him there than I had before.

Jack watches from the bathroom door as I apply my makeup for work. "Singing tonight?"

"Mmhmm," I answer as I apply mascara to my lashes. "Wanna come?" I glace at him in the mirror. He looks uncertain. "You don't have to, Jack. I just thought, where you aren't working yet, it might be nice for you to get out." I can almost see him weighing the options in his head. Then I see his eyes drift to his reflection in the mirror. "You can stay in the back, if you'd be more comfortable," I offer. "Ern wouldn't mind," I had told most of my co-workers the modified version of the events. "It's up to you, babe," I turn back to my makeup.

"Yeah, I'll come," he agrees finally. "Can't hide forever," he states sadly.

I put my mascara back in my makeup bag and zip it up, turning to face Jack. "Nothing to hide, Wild Card," I caress his face as I pass him in the door. "Get dressed," I slap him playfully on the ass.

"Actions like that will only result in undressing and not leaving the apartment," he raises his eyebrows seriously, but the eyes underneath them are bright and crinkled with a smile around the corners.

I grin toothily at him and make my way to the bedroom to pick out something to wear. I'm rifling through the closet for a few moments before Jack reaches over me and plucks a dress out of it. "This one," he mumbles. "I like you in purple," I take the dress and see that it's the one I was wearing the first time he came to see me sing. I smile fondly at the memory and go to change.

The bus ride to the Beckford seems longer than usual, but I think that it's just Jack's anxiety rubbing off on me. Understandably, he's nervous about being out, and self-conscious about people's reactions. He hasn't verbalized it, but I know him well enough to tell. He has worn nice, black jeans and a black sport coat over a navy blue shirt. He has also worn a black scarf wrapped in layers around his neck that, as he's sitting next to me on the bus, he's hiding his face in. His hands are relaxed on his legs and I reach over and pick one of them up in mine, squeezing reassuringly. He glances over at me and winks in that Jack way of his.

Reg greets us warmly when we arrive at the bar, shaking Jack's hand and not giving him a second look, despite his right scar peeking out over the top of his scarf. Once inside we go straight to the back stage entrance, giving Ern a nod and a wave as we pass the bar. It's busy, so he isn't able to come around the bar to say hello.

"You good?" I nod to Jack as I hang up my coat.

"Peachy," his answer is clipped, and I can tell he's second-guessing is decision to come out tonight.

"Let someone know if you need anything, 'kay?" I rub his arm reassuringly.

"Knock 'em dead, Sugar," he grins and pats my hand.

The bar is packed, but the mood is jovial. I hit the stage, and everyone's happy to have some live entertainment. We start off playing "The Times They Are A-Changin'" and burn through the first part of the set. Before I know it, my first break has arrived. Jack isn't right there when I get backstage, which perplexes me for a moment until I hear his voice quietly talking to Ern, who is sitting there eating some supper and listening intently to whatever tale Jack had decided to spin.

"Here she is!" He exclaims when he sees me, standing to give me a quick hug. I can tell immediately that his mood has lifted and he's more at ease with things. "Sounding great, Sugar."

"Yeah, you're killin' it up there, Kay-Kay," Ern agrees through a mouthful of salad.

"I thank you kindly," I bow dramatically and giggle. "Surprised you've been able to listen at all, Ern, it's insane out there," I pull a third chair up to the small break table and steal a fry from Ern's plate.

"Help yourself, my dear, I won't finish them anyway," he turns the plate towards me. "Yeah, it's good. Cool crowd tonight."

I nod. "Want a drink or something, Jack?" I look over at him and he points his thumb towards two empty beer bottles on the shelf by the table.

"I'm good," he chuckles. "Ern and Claudia are making sure I'm well looked after."

"Glad to hear it," I grin and lean in for a kiss.

"Aww," I hear Ern gush. "You two are really too damn cute."

I redden slightly, but Jack just winks.

The rest of night goes smoothly. Jack and I share a meal on my long break and he has the occasional beer. He seems more relaxed on each break and even ventures out onto the main floor at one point to watch me sing "House of the Rising Sun," one of his favourites. By the end of the night, I think he is glad he came out. We finish on "I Put a Spell on You" which earns us enthusiastic whoops and hollers from the slightly tipsy, very excitable crowd, and I take my bows.

"Ready to take off?" I ask as I get back stage after the last song. "Lot's to do with the fam coming over tomorrow."

He nods and offers me his elbow. "M'lady," he bows his head.

I curtsey and link my arm through his. "M'lord," I giggle.

Ern bursts through the door as we're about to leave and takes a dramatic breath. "Well, I am glad that is over," he announces. "What a night. Great job up there, Kay-Kay!"

"Thanks, Ern," I smile. "Have a good night."

"You two want a ride?" He offers.

"No, no, that's okay," Jack speaks up quickly. "We're gonna go get a coffee before we head home. Thanks, though," I nod in agreement.

"Okay," Ern says skeptically. "Be safe," he kisses me once on the cheek and smiles warmly at Jack and we make our way through the bar.

"Grea' job up there, gor'jus," a drunken man stumbles over and slurs at me. "Really grea' job!"

I smile tightly and pull myself closer to Jack. "Thank you," I say politely.

"'Ey, 'ey, buddy, couldja back off, 'ere? I'm tryna talk ta the lady," he makes a grab for my arm, which I pull away from him and Jack puts a hand up between the drunk and me.

"She said 'thank you,'" he sternly reminds the man. "She wants to go. Leave her alone."

The man scoffs and curls half of his lip up in a grin. "You ser'yis? Honey... Hey, Red... You with this guy?" He points a thumb to Jack and raises an eyebrow. I look pleadingly towards the door where I see that Reg has taken notice of the situation, but is currently occupied and, try as he may, unable to get right to us. "I asked y'a question," he slurs again. "You with this freak?" He spits the word out and it's like I've been slapped.

Before I can react, though, Jack is past me and has the man by the collar. He spins him around and pushes him backwards so he's leaning back over the bar. Jack gets in close to his face. "You, uh, have some kind of problem?" He tongue darts quickly over his scars. His voice is deadly calm, despite the fury he just displayed, and the man is wide-eyed and petrified underneath him. I have a hold of one of Jack's arms and keep enough pressure on it to remind him I'm there. I'd be useless to pull him off, though, were he to try anything. I can feel his muscles tight through his jacket.

"I-I-I didn't m-mean anything by it," the man stammers, seemingly sobered by the turn of events. "I-I didn't know. I swear," his hands are up between himself and Jack, trying to placate him. Jack doesn't relent.

"What'd ya think, uh, some stranger," he speaks deliberately and takes the occasional pause. "Was walking arm in arm with the singer," he bounces his head from one side to the other. "Heading out," he hits that "t" and I shiver. "And she wasn't... With... Him?"

"I-I'm sorry," the man sounds like he may cry. "Please."

"Jack," I say his name softly and pull gently on his arm. Finally, Reg gets to us.

"Sorry, Kaylie," his voice is gruff, but apologetic, and he pins one big hand on the man's chest as he looks over at Jack. "I got this, man."

Jack looks over at Reg with his eyes dark and narrowed. For a moment, I think he's not going to let up, but he slowly - one finger at a time - releases the man's collar from his grip and leans back where I'm still pulling on his arm. He sniffs once and flicks his tongue over his scars again, nodding.

"Oh my God," Ern comes out from the back and takes in the scene before him. "What happened?"

Thankfully, Reg is the first to speak, not taking his eyes off the drunken man he has pinned to the bar. "The gentleman had a few too many and decided to give Kaylie a hard time on the way out. Isn't that right?"

Under the hard stares of both Reg and Jack, the man can only nod meekly. After an apology from Ern, and another from the drunk man, Jack and I are finally on our way.

He hasn't said anything since we left the bar, and we're about halfway to the coffee shop we go to before I speak. "Jack? You okay?"

He doesn't stop walking, but glances sideways at me. "I'm fine, Sugar. Didn't like him trying to paw over you," he shrugs.

I nod and look up at him again. "You're sure it's not what he said?" I press. "You didn't lose it 'til..."

"Lose it?" He snorts. "Kayl, I was in complete control," he assures me. "It was... Magical..." He laughs and I pause to consider that he's had a few beer and may be a bit tipsy himself. I'm about to answer him when he speaks up again. "Besides, nothing anyone like that says to me can bother me. I'll just be whatever they want me to be, whether they like it," he pauses and quirks an eyebrow. "Or not," his face darkens and he hits the "t" again.

I nod again, not really sure what to say. Thankfully, I'm saved by the bell over the door to the coffeehouse chiming as Jack pulls it open for me. We place our order - tea for me, coffee for Jack - and conversation returns to our usual light, entertaining subject matter while we enjoy our drinks.

Thankfully, we are able to catch the last bus after we're done drinking. Jack once again has his face hidden behind the scarf, despite the fact that there's really no one around to hide from. When we get home, I go to feed the cats and change into my PJ's, choosing a comfortable, coral-coloured fleece pair. When I get back to the kitchen, Jack has the phone to his ear and a stern look on his face. He is scribbling something down.

"What's that about?" I point to the pad of paper when he hangs up.

"Message from Warren. Has some news, wants to see me Monday afternoon," he informs me.

"Oh," I nod, not sure how to feel about this. "Work?"

Jack shrugs with his shoulders and his mouth. "Don't know," he says. I doubt that's what it is.

"Want another coffee?" I ask, changing the subject.

"No," he laughs. "I need to be rested so I'm prepared when Karla kills me tomorrow."

I roll my eyes at him. "She'll be fine," I assure him. "Besides, it's not her day, it's our day. We'll get married however and whenever we want to, Wild Card."

He laughs again. "Good. You can tell her that, then."

"I will," I nod. "And I'll also tell her that if she were engaged to the most caring, generous, protective, hilarious, considerate, spectacular man in the world, she wouldn't want to put it off, either," I grin at him.

He smiles lovingly at me. "You are so beautiful, Sugar," he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, cradling my head in his hand as he does so. "You're the most important thing in my life. Ever. Nothing else comes close."

A/N - And a bit of an encounter, there, with the drunkard. Hope everyone's still enjoying the story. Thanks, again, to all reading, reviewing, faving and following! You guys rock!


	15. Don't You Dare Change A Thing

_Love be still, love be sweet_

_Don't you dare change a thing_

_I want to photograph you with my mind_

_To feel how I feel now all the time_

**Jewel - This Way**

The alarm goes off too early for both of us the next morning. Ten o'clock may not sound too bad, but considering the time we got in and the time following that spent rolling around the bed before actually falling asleep in it, we were both pretty beat.

"One more hour?" I mumble groggily.

I hear Jack's tired laugh as he sits up. "Uh-uh, Sugar, too much to do."

I groan. "You do it," I half-joke, pushing him away gently. He laughs again, leaning over me and sweeping my hair off my face, planting a loud kiss on my cheek. "Okay, okay. I'm up," I pout after a moment, sitting up as well. "But I'm not happy about it."

He smirks down at me and shakes his head. "Duly noted."

...

We work our way through the apartment, cleaning it from top to bottom. We're both tidy people, anyway, but my mother will have her eyes peeled for imperfection. If she can tear them away from Jack's face. The apartment isn't huge, and with Jack and I carrying on and making a game of it, the job seems to go pretty quickly.

Once everything is clean, dinner - bacon-wrapped pork roast, potatoes, carrots and turnip - in the oven, and we're both freshly showered, we flop down onto the sofa at 4:37. Just over an hour until we're expecting my family. Our apartment wasn't really designed to entertain that many people, so we have place settings at the island as well as the dining table, which is in sight of the island so we can all still converse.

"You ready for this, Jack?" I smile.

We both have our heads leaned back against the sofa back, and he turns his to look at me, a small smile on his face as well. "Ready as I'll ever be, Sugar. Are you?"

I nod. "It'll be fine."

"Yeah," he squeezes my knee, then pushes himself to his feet. "Should get dressed, though. Your folks don't want to see me in boxers and a robe," he laughs.

"What about what I want to see?" I ask with a wink.

"Don't start," he warns jokingly.

...

At 5:22, there is a knock at the door. I leave the kitchen to open it, and there is my sister, smiling with a bottle of wine presented proudly in her hand. Grady, who she had recently reconnected with, is with her, as is toddler Charlie, who bounds in to hug my legs proclaiming, "Ant-y Kay!" I give him a squeeze back before hugging Hallie and letting them all into the apartment.

Jack rises nervously from the sofa, and I can see him take a deep breath before he slowly turns around. "Hey, Hal," he smiles.

Hallie falters for a moment, and briefly a pitying expression crosses her face. "Oh, Jack," she walks over to him and pulls him into a tight hug. "Hi."

Jack waves comically over Hallie's shoulder at Charlie, who grins up at him brightly. "Unca Jackie!" He beams.

"Hey there, soldier," he bends down and scoops him up. Charlie doesn't even seem to notice anything different about him. As Jack supports Charlie with his left hand, he extends his right one. "Grady," he greets, shaking Grady's hand.

"Jack," the ever quiet Grady speaks his first word since arriving.

"Mom and Dad aren't here yet," I tell them. "If you just want to make yourselves comfy, I'll go check the food."

Hallie holds up her offering. "Let me pour this bad boy, I'm itching for a glass," she laughs lightly and follows me into the kitchen.

As Hallie and I sip and chat in the kitchen, Charlie plays with a toy car on Jack while telling him all about the vehicle and Grady watches them play with a half-smile on his face. After a few minutes, a second knock sounds on the door. I open it and there is my father's smiling face, Mom, Aiden and Kimmy standing there with him. "How're my baby girls?" He beams at Hallie and I and we're both six years old again, hugging our Daddy gleefully.

"Hi, Dad!" I pull him into the apartment and then pull Mom into a hug. "Momma," Hallie and I hug everyone as they come in and Hallie goes to pour more wine.

Jack hands Charlie to Grady as he stands up, bracing himself once more before turning to greet the rest of my family. Dad's there first. "Hey Isaak," he reaches out to shake Dad's hand, but gets pulled into a man-hug instead.

"How you doin', son?" Dad asks sincerely.

Jack shrugs. "Fine," he replies. "Hi Karla," he nods to my mother, who has come over to greet him with a sad look on her face and her fingers covering her lips.

"My goodness, Jack," she whispers. "I can't believe someone would do this to you," she hugs him tightly around the neck and he pats her on the back.

"Twice," he chuckles awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood. "It's alright, Karla," he assures her when she won't let go of his neck. "I'm alright."

She finally pulls back to assess him again. "And you didn't go to the hospital? Why wouldn't you go to the hospital, Jack?" She grills him.

"I have a friend who took care of it for free," he offers sheepishly. "Insurance being an issue and all."

She smacks his arm lightly. "You kids should have said something, we could have had him cared for properly."

"It's fine, Mom," I grind out.

Jack sighs. "I'm not about to let you pay for my medical care when I have someone who can do the same thing for free."

"The same thing? Jack-" she begins to argue.

Jack cuts her off gently. "Scar tissue, Karla," he reminds her. "It was a bitch to get the old mug looking this good."

My mother softens. "The old mug is as handsome as ever, regardless, dear," she smiles in her motherly way and the air is clear once again. "So, when can we eat?" She spins on her heel and marches towards me into the kitchen. "And how can I help? It smells delicious, honey."

I get everybody seated and start serving dinner. Mom and Dad sit at the island with Jack and me, everyone else gathers around the dining table. Conversation is light and familiar, and it's refreshing to have my family together. The cats are enjoying it, too, as they're gathered around my father's chair with him treating them each a bit of pork for every bite he takes, as he always did before I left home.

My eyes move to Jack's across the island and he expectantly lifts his eyebrows and nods once at me. I nod at him in response and down the rest of my wine. "Guys, Jack and I have a little bit of news we wanted to share with you tonight-"

Hallie snorts. "Well, the way you pounded that wine back, it'd better not be a kid."

"Thanks, Hallie," I glare at her, standing. "No, it isn't. Actually, it's to do with a wedding," everyone's ears seem to perk up and all eyes are on me. Jack slowly stands and comes to my side, so he can face everyone as well. "There isn't going to be one yet. Not really. But, we do want to get married. We've got it all set up. It's going to be quick. You're welcome to come along, but this is how we want to do things," I look pointedly at my mother, who hasn't yet managed to pick her jaw up.

Jack clears his through behind his hand. "With what happened," he waves that hand past his face. "I realized that I don't want to wait anymore. There's no reason to. This world is just going to keep on happening to you, and you gotta keep the good things close," he looks down at me seriously. "We don't want to go through the trouble of a wedding. Not yet. Maybe someday. But right now, and for always, we love each other and we want to be married."

Dad looks over at Mom and lifts his hands. "Well, I can't think of a better reason," he smiles. "Karla?"

She starts a moment and then looks at Jack and me. Her stern expression softens once again and she's smiling with tears in her eyes. "Whatever makes you kids happy, do it," she says finally. "Oh, for heaven's sake," she dabs at her eyes with her napkin and stands up. "Come here, you two," she pulls us into a hug, one arm around each of our necks, and kisses us both. When we part, I release a breath I didn't know I'd been holding and smile back at her. Dad stands and hugs us quickly, as well.

With the big announcement out of the way, dinner conversation resumed its previous tendency towards the light and familiar. After we eat, Charlie crashes on the sofa and the "grown-ups" decide to have a game or two of Yahtzee all huddled around the dining table. It is a fun, silly way to end the evening, and eleven o'clock arrives before anyone leaves. Hallie and Grady decide to leave and take Charlie home. Everyone gives their hugs, and Mom, who is a little bit tipsy with wine, convinces Dad to stay for one more game.

"Come on, Isaak," she grins at him, pushing her hair out of her face. "Live a little! We're getting another son!" She exclaims happily.

When the time comes for everyone else to leave, it is nearly quarter to twelve. Mom is losing steam and Dad comically leads her out of the apartment after everyone hugs their goodbyes. Aiden and Kimmy smile their congratulations and approval at our non-traditional approach to getting married. I heave a deep sigh when I finally close the door behind everyone and turn to Jack, who is leaning on the island looking amused.

"Wasn't so bad, was it?" He grins.

I shake my head and start to wrap my arms around his waist. "It was surprisingly nice."

He grips my elbows loosely in his hands and holds them away from himself. "Not that I'm complaining, there, Sugar, but if you want to get this place straightened up before we go to bed, you might not want to snuggle in so close just yet."

I smirk and press myself against him fully before pushing off and heading to the kitchen to start cleaning. "You're probably right, Wild Card."

He growls deep in his throat and walks past me, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder and starting to fill the sink. "Bad things happen to girls who don't play fair," he teases musically.

"Promises, promises," I giggle up at him. "Might take you more seriously without the floral towel accessory, Mr. Domestic," I bite back, skipping around the island to pick up the scattered glasses and dessert plates around the apartment. I chuckle when I pick up a discarded pair of glasses I recognize as my mother's. "She probably won't even notice these are missing until she wakes up tomorrow," I chuckle, holding them up so Jack can see.

"I've never seen your Mom drink so much," he shakes his head. "Quite the woman."

"She sure is," I smile fondly and set her glasses down by the microwave.

We continue to tidy up and chat about the usual odds and ends that pop into our heads, and it's past one o'clock in the morning when the phone rings. I raise my eyebrows at Jack, who is putting the dry dishes away. "Guess she did remember," I chuckle and pick up the phone. "Yes, they're here," I announce. "Safe and sound, not a crack in 'em."

There's a sob on the other end. "Kaylie?" It's my sister.

I freeze. "Hallie? What's wrong?" My voice is instantly panicked and Jack stops what he's doing and watches me with a serious expression on his face.

"You have to come quick," she says through heavy tears. "There's been an accident."

A/N - A bit of a cliffie, but I promise I will update within a week. Thanks for reading, reviewing, faving and following! You guys rock! Shoutouts to Blueberrytoast, Poozie, LabyFan23, darkfae13x13, loveorpain, Blue Dot77, 123Anonymous, miscalculation, Charlie McManus, Udliketoknow, Comingsummers, Emlives, angle4000, Mushroomking98, K-Bird Lily 2, and Wolven316! Thank you all so, so much!

And a few overdue replies!

GottaGetBackUp - Sorry for the terrible cliffy back in Chapter 10, followed by too long without an update. I won't let that happen again!

HoistTheColours - Thank you so much for taking the time to write such a detailed review! I really appreciate your input, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story so much. I hope it continues to draw you in.

LivinJgrl123 - He is already headed on that path, but it's not going to be a short trip. I plan to make it very gradual, as I don't think it would be believable for the Jack I've written to go BANG! Joker. Hopefully I am able to keep it believable. I liked the thought that he acquired some of his quirks and expressions from Kaylie, too. Just like anyone would pick up things from someone they love and spend a lot of time with. I'm so happy you like the story! A very Happy New Year to you, too! Thanks for your continued reviews, they're so appreciated!


	16. Sometimes Things Gotta Change

_I hope you know that I care_

_I hope you know that I loved you till the end_

_Sometimes things gotta change_

_Sometimes things will burn out before they're due_

_I guess this is what I'm supposed to learn_

_But learning is so devastating_

_Devastating_

**Hawksley Workman - Devastating**

By the time I arrive at the hospital, half of my family is already dead. Mom and Aiden were both sitting on the passenger side of the car when they were t-boned by a drunk driver in a half-ton truck. From what the doctor said to Hallie, they were killed instantly. So was Kimmy, when the car's rear end was twisted into a street light. Only my father is left fighting for his life, and from the way Hallie is talking, it doesn't sound good.

Hallie ran to me when she saw Jack and I arrive. Everything sprang from her sobbing lips in a garbled panic before she flung herself into my arms. I held her tightly as my mind struggled to make sense of what she had said. I glance over Hallie's shoulder at Grady who is looking helplessly at my sister while Charlie sleeps on the bench next to him. I feel Jacks hand at the small of my back and I imagine he looks just as helpless as Grady does.

As I stand in the middle of the hospital holding my sister, too many emotions are fighting to take over. Guilt. If we had asked them to leave when Hallie and Grady had left, they wouldn't have been on the road when that vehicle tore through it. Grief at the loss of a mother, brother, and practically sister-in-law. Hope that maybe my father will pull through this mess. Worry that if he does, the guilt and loneliness he will feel will be too much for him. Anger that a selfish man gambled with the lives of others yet lives to see another day himself.

That's right, something else Hallie practically spat when I arrived. The drunk driver didn't die. Anger is winning out and I tighten my hold on Hallie. I don't even realize we'd been slipping to the floor until I feel it under my knees. I land painfully on them, but it doesn't matter. I hear a shout of concern and see Grady in almost slow-motion slide to my sister's side. I pass a glance to the bench to see Charlie is still sleeping through. I feel Hallie's arms leave my neck as she scrambles to bury her face in Grady's. He rocks her and strokes her hair in an attempt to sooth her.

I think I hear a voice behind me and turn my head to see Jack staring at me with worry. He has a hand on my shoulder. He says something. I think he asks if I'm okay, so I shake my head that I'm not and fall backwards into his waiting arms. I can still see Grady hugging Hallie tight to his chest. His eyes meet Jack's and they're pleading, alarmed, begging for instruction as to what to do. I feel Jack shrug heavily. No one knows what to do at a time like this. Grady looks at me and offers a small, sad smile, then looks back at Jack and slightly shakes his head. I close my eyes and turn my face towards Jack. He responds by pulling back, turning me around, regarding me briefly at arm's length, then pulling me back to him. I rest my ear over his heart and listen to it thumping away.

I don't know how long we stay like that. The world is slower than it should be. Everything feels simultaneously too real and unbelievable. We are still on the floor when a doctor enters the room from a door. His face is haggard and somber. The hallway seems to stretch on forever between us, but eventually he is standing before us. I stand, with Jack's help, and Hallie and Grady do the same. I don't know if I hear the words or see his lips move or both. All I know is that he says he is sorry. There's nothing more he could do. And that's it. No tear-filled plea to my father to keep fighting. No chance for an emotional goodbye. I didn't even get to see him. Before the doctor gets any further, my world crumbles around me. Hallie is screaming and crying. Charlie wakes up in a start, hears his mother's cries, and cries himself in response. Hallie is handed to me and Jack, who takes her tightly under one of his arms, while Grady goes to retrieve his son. A moment passes, and Hallie's weight is taken back from us and the family of three embrace each other in their grief.

I don't know which to succumb to first, my rage or my grief, but my body decides on the latter and I slump defeated against Jack. In hindsight, that was probably one of the main differences between Jack and me. I gave into my grief before my rage. For the first time since I arrive at the hospital, a sob tears itself from my throat and I find myself crying into Jacks chest. I feel myself being torn from his arms and turned around by my sister who throws her arms around me again and we sob together. She and I are all that remains of our family unit. Jack leads us over to the bench and helps us sit down. Charlie's cries have quieted and I notice that he is in his father's arms, looking down at his mother with concern. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment before I push out of Hallie's grip and turn her to face her son. She opens her arms to him and Grady sits him on her lap and she hugs us both.

After a while, the sobbing subsides and an even less bearable numbness seems to take hold. Then it seems it's all paperwork and questions and information. When the time comes for us to leave the hospital, the sun is just starting to come up. Grady offers to give us a ride home, but I don't want to go there. Hallie and I need to be together right now, so going back to our apartments isn't an option for us. We decide to truly go home. I feel the lump forming in my throat again as we drive the familiar streets leading to the one we grew up on. Tears prick my eyes when the welcoming house is in view. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, either.

I'm crying, hand in hand with Jack, when we walk up the steps to the front door. I have my keys out. Grady and Hallie are still by the car, trying to get Charlie out without waking him. I take a deep breath as I put my key, the key I've had since I was in high school, in the lock and open the door. When something like this happens, the worst part is that the world doesn't know. When I open the front door to my childhood home, it's just as they left it. It smells like home and there's open mail on the table by the entryway. Dishes had been left drying in the rack. There's a basket of unfolded laundry on the dining room table. Life was still waiting for them. It feels so wrong to me that they don't get to come home and do these simple things anymore.

Bella trots down the hallway from, presumably, my parent's room where she sleeps and I slowly lower myself to scratch and cuddle the oblivious dog. When Grady, Hallie and Charlie reach the door, Jack and I still haven't left the entryway. He takes me gently by the elbow and urges me to my feet. I comply and Bella walks past us to greet the new arrivals. I walk slowly into the dining room and look around. The calendar is hanging on the end of the cupboards and I look at yesterday's date. Written there in my mother's hand it reads 'Dinner K&Js 6pm.' I tear my eyes away and walk to the laundry, monotonously I begin to fold it.

Jack watches me from across the table with a worried expression. Hallie says something in a worn and weary voice about needing to go to bed. I feel her hug me before she and Grady are out of sight. When the laundry is folded, Jack takes it and puts it away. I've never been so grateful for him. We both sit in silence at the table. I'm looking at the floor, but I can feel Jack's eyes on me. He doesn't try to make conversation. He doesn't tell me everything's going to be alright. He doesn't do anything but sit there with me. And that's everything right then and there.

...

We end up giving in to sleep at some point in the early morning. When I wake up in my old room, the world crashes back to me unwelcome and I instantly begin to cry. Jack is there in a heartbeat, crouched in front of me, wiping away my tears and kissing my face. He had been across the room, watching my from the old, rose-coloured chair in the corner. I hear some movement downstairs and calm myself. I don't want Hallie to have to deal with the aftermath on her own. I see a bag with clothes in it on the chair in the corner and look at Jack confused. He explains that Grady went to get some things for him and Hallie and offered to get some for us, too. He also fed the cats. I am thankful. I dress and make my way downstairs.

Children are odd. I come to that conclusion when I reach the kitchen and find Charlie sitting at the table talking excitedly to his father about some television show. I look to Hallie who, as I thought she would be, is on the phone. I gather that she is talking to Uncle Jamie, one of Mom's brothers. She is crying, but collected, and sitting on the kitchen counter. I wave to her when she sees me. She waves back with a sad smile and wraps up her conversation.

She tells me that in addition to Uncle Jamie, she has called Aunt Cynthia, our Dad's sister. They both agreed to contact other relatives on their sides of the family, taking the weight of that off of us. I'm glad for that. She's also been talking to Kimmy's family, who are dealing with their loss, as well. I ask if there's anything I can do. We need to talk about a funeral. I lower myself into a chair. I don't know how people do this. In a time of such monumental loss, planning a farewell get together hardly seems practical to me. Nonetheless, I nod my head.

Our parents, always prepared, have most of their plans laid out. Cremation. Service with a small local funeral home. We decide it makes sense to do the same things with Aiden. We spend most of the day making arrangements and talking to family. Of course, everyone is shocked. Shocked, angry, and grief-stricken. The conversations become like a script, which makes each one a bit easier to have. I also call in to work. Ern sounds more genuinely devastated than some of our own family members were. He gives me the week off and insists that I call if I need more time or anything else. Jack makes a call to Warren. I pay no attention to it.

...

When night falls once again, it seems as though much as been accomplished. We have set the funeral date for Wednesday. Some family is coming to Gotham to attend, but thankfully not everyone. All of our Aunts and Uncles. A few cousins. Friends of Mom and Dad. School friends of Aiden and Kimmy. Her funeral is taking place alongside my family's. I asked Ern not to come and to let everyone know the same. It's already too much for me.

We don't stay at the house again that night, Jack and I. Hallie and Grady do. We take a cab back to the apartment. I can't stand to be in that house any longer. It smells like home. It looks like home. But without Mom, Dad and Aiden there, it's just an empty box. The feeling that I'm going to see one of their faces around every corner is torturous. Seeing little bits of their everyday lives sprawled out all over the place is agonizing. Dad's stained coffee mug on a coaster on the computer desk. Mom's curling iron left to cool on the bathroom counter. Aiden's guitar pick on the microwave. They're everywhere there and I need to be away from it.

At the apartment, Jack makes us tea and offers to draw me a bath. I graciously accept. I don't know what I'd do without him there. I finish my tea while he's still in the bathroom and go to put my mug by the sink. As I turn from the sink, I catch sight of Mom's glasses next to the microwave. I freeze. I can't stop staring at them. I start breathing heavily and feel like I could explode into tears at any moment. When Jack comes out of the hallway, he notices immediately and rushes to me, scooping me into his arms. I tear my eyes away from the glasses, bury my face into his shirt and breathe him in.

When I've calmed down, he leads me into the bathroom and helps me out of my clothes. I sink into the hot water and, while I don't relax, I certainly come closer to it than I have in the past twenty-four hours. Jack stays with me, making light, meaningless conversation which means the world to me. He helps me wash my hair and my back. He tells me he loves me. I tell him I love him. When I get out of the tub, he goes to pour us a drink. I dry myself off and go to the kitchen. On the counter is a glass with whiskey in it. I down it greedily. I look to the spot next to the microwave, and Mom's glasses are gone.

The following day is a blur of more phone calls, more preparation, more condolences. More, more, more. The foolishness of it all strikes me. Hallie and I have to bury the ashes of our family tomorrow, and we're running ourselves ragged to ensure they have a good send off. We've always been led to believe that it's a necessary, important process, but the reality of it is that it's a distraction. A temporary distraction from your grief, made by focusing on your grief, so that you can later grieve in an organized fashion before moving on from your grief. The entire concept seems so ludicrous to me now.

When Tuesday is over, we've prepared for the ritual. We're as ready as we ever will be to bury the people who shaped us into the people we've become, and a person we helped to shape from the time we were kids. Family members have flown in from here and there. Some of them are staying at my former home with Hallie. They try to urge me to stay, as well. They say I should be around family at this time. I assure them that I will be fine. Inwardly, I feel that Jack is more my family than they are, apart from Hallie. I don't vocalize that, though.

We are in bed by eleven Tuesday night. We don't sleep for awhile, though. I seek the comfort of Jack's body, and he gives me everything I need. It's a long, slow, sensual distraction from what I'll have to do the next day. We both need it. We both crave it. We both want it. I feel a twinge of guilt at the fact that I am able to enjoy any part of life when it's been ripped so cruelly from my family. The guilt passes when I put all of my focus into the distraction.

When we finish, our bodies collapse onto one another. We're a pile of sweaty, tired limbs and messy hair. We fall asleep and my dreams are blissfully void of any reminder of the past couple days. The alarm goes off before I'm awake and my eyes shoot open. Tears spring to them as realization hits and I feel Jack's loving touch on my face. I close my eyes and will my tears away. They listen for the moment.

When I open my eyes again, Jack is leaning over me with a resolved, sad look on his scarred face. He gives me a small smile and traces his hand along my face once more. After another few seconds of silence, Jack finally speaks. "Ready, Sugar?"

I blink and meet his eyes, the pain and anger of the past few days bubbling up within me and, shaking my head, I choke out my tearful reply. "No."

A/N - I hope this was okay. It was necessary for reasons I am sure are obvious, and some that will make themselves known as the story progresses. Hopefully you're all still enjoying the story. Thanks to those reading, reviewing, faving and following!


	17. Everybody's Changing

_You're aching, you're breaking_

_And I can see the pain in your eyes_

_Says everybody's changing_

_And I don't know why_

_So little time_

_Try to understand that I'm_

_Trying to make a move just to stay in the game_

_I try to stay awake and remember my name_

_But everybody's changing and I don't feel the same_

**Keane - Everybody's Changing**

Despite the fact that it's nearly Spring, the temperatures are bitter cold in the cemetery. It's fitting. The service at the funeral home was, thankfully, brief. Anything that Hallie and I wanted to say about or to our family we would do in conversation, in private. To do it there would be close to impossible. In the funeral home, it was just Hallie and I with our family and friends of the family. Grady stayed at the house with Charlie and Jack who, for discretionary purposes, only planned to attend the burial, so he could wear his scarf. Having never met most of my family, he didn't want to do it under these circumstances and I understood completely.

We're gathered around three small holes in the ground where we're going to place our family. Jack is standing behind me and I'm leaning back into him. Hallie's standing next to me with one of Jack's arms over her shoulders, clutching my hands and the rest of our family is behind us. Kimmy's family also opted to have her cremated and are burying her remains in a plot right next to Aiden's. They're standing across from us looking equally somber. There are no headstones yet, though arrangements have been made for them.

When they begin to put our family in the ground, I cannot watch. I turn my face to Jack, who wraps his free arm around me and presses his lips to my head through his scarf. "I've got ya, Sugar," he quietly assures me.

All in all, the process takes far too long for me. I'm worn out by the time we get back to the house, and at that point, we're expected to have guests. I suppose to reminisce and that sort of thing, but it is entirely unappealing to me. Jack gives my arm a squeeze and makes his way upstairs as Grady walks down with Charlie. "How'd it go?" I hear him ask as they pass.

Jack shakes his head. "Terrible," he mumbles.

I nod once and glance at the floor before steeling myself and marching to the kitchen to busy myself with setting out the refreshments. "Oh, Kaylie, sweetheart, let me do that," I hear my Aunt Debbie's kind voice behind me. "You go sit down," she pats me gently on the back. I sigh and go sit at the table.

"How's Crystal?" After a brief silence, I ask about my cousin, who lives across the country and couldn't make it for the service.

Debbie seems surprised by the attempt at small talk, but accommodating. "She's good. Working her way up the ladder. I barely see her at all anymore," she smiles sadly. "But we're so proud of her."

"Sounds it," I return her smile. "Aiden's... uh... He was, I mean, working on a computer game..." I trail off. I hadn't expected to be able to say anything about them. Aiden was the same age as Crystal, so it happened so naturally. My eyes well up. "Couldn't shut him up about it..." I whisper.

"He was a talented young man," Debbie's smile fades and she has tears in her eyes. She shakes them away and continues loading the countertops with finger foods. "And, what are you up to, hon?" She changes the subject.

"I'm still working at the hotel," my voice is thick with emotion, but I push my way through it. "Bartending, waitressing, singing, a bit."

"Singing? Wow, good for you," she joins me at the table. "You always had the sweetest voice. I remember your first school play when you were six years old. Remember?" She smiles fondly and I nod. "You were the little red hen and you sang your little red heart out," she giggles and pokes a finger gently at my chest. I can see her tearing up again.

"Yeah, I remember," I tear up, as well. "Dad was so-" I choke on my words momentarily before soldiering on. "- giddy that day," I laugh through my tears. "They sat right up front," I laugh again as I remember, my arm extended with my hand indicating the chair across from me as though it were happening in front of me. "He was wearing a goddamn rooster hat," Debbie and I are both sobbing with laughter, and it feels so good and so awful to talk about these things.

"Karla was wild," she told me. "'You should've seen him,' she said," her impression of Mom is spot on and I laugh. "'His costume was more elaborate than hers was!'" We both sob and roar with laughter.

"What's going on out here?" Hallie walks into the kitchen, a cautious smile on her tear-streaked face.

"Oh, we were just talking about your sister's little red hen days," Debbie winks. "You're probably too young to remember that."

"Oh yeah," Hallie's smile broadens and she sits down. "I've seen the video."

"You're in the video!" Debbie points at her. "All done up like a little yellow chick."

"Yeah!" Hallie points a finger back at Debbie as it comes back to her. "Oh, Dad," she shakes her head.

"He was something else, your father," Debbie stands up and goes to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of wine. She brings it and a stack of paper cups to the table.

"He was the best man my sister could have hoped for," my Uncle John, Debbie's husband, pipes up teasingly as he wanders into the kitchen, a twinkle in his sad, blue eyes.

Person after person trickles into the kitchen, everyone reminiscing fondly about my family. Our family. Some things Hallie and I had never even heard before. It really helped me to see the value of what had seemed like a brutal thing to have to do.

"I remember one time, Hallie, you must have been 4, maybe 5 years old," our Aunt Nora was regaling us now. "Your Mom caught you on camera sneaking some chocolates that were supposed to be for a gift. It was around Christmas time. Might have been your birthday, actually. You don't notice her right away and she says 'Hallie, what are you doing?' You turn and, without missing a beat, you say, 'Mommy, take that thing off your eye and you will see,'" everyone laughs.

"I think I remember that video," I speak up. "We have that here somewhere. That's on the same tape where Aiden and Jordan are playing in the sand and Jordan's face appears suddenly in close up and he goes, 'Aunt Karla, Aiden ate a worm,'" more laughter. "It must have been the following Summer."

"I can't believe those days are gone," Hallie says sadly, and the room sobers.

"To be fair," our cousin Jordan, no longer the chubby cheeked toddler from the video, speaks up. "Aiden hasn't eaten a worm in a couple years, at least," he reasons with a smirk. The mood lightens - as much as it can - once again.

...

It is late by the time our family has dispersed and I make my way upstairs to go to bed. Unsurprisingly, Jack isn't in the main living area. When I open the door to my bedroom, he is sitting up in the bed scribbling away in his notebook. "Hey," he stops, dropping his pen and closing the book around it. "How you doin'?"

I shrug and sit heavily on the bed. "I don't know, Jack," I confess. "I haven't had the time to figure it out."

He rubs my shoulders soothingly and kisses the top of my head. "You don't have to figure it out yet, babe," he assures me. "Take your time." I lean back into his touch and close my eyes in an effort to forget the world for awhile, but behind my eyelids are nothing but memories of four people I loved and will never see again, and I start to cry. "Aw, Sugar," Jack croaks, and I can hear the sadness in his voice as he pulls me back to lay against his chest and wraps his arms around me. I reach up with my hands and grip his arm, rubbing it with my thumbs as the tears flow.

After a few moments, I feel ready to speak. "We were talking about them down there. The whole family. We all had something, some memory, to share. Most of us shared a ton," I tell him, my voice still thick. "There was a lot of... Joy, with them in our lives. What are we going to do without them, Jack?" I twist so I can see him, and he is looking at the floor, his expression pensive.

His eyes meet mine. "You still remember that joy, Sugar?" I nod. He nods back, the motion bouncing us on the bed. "Keep it. Hold onto it. Don't let go," he squeezes me pointedly as he says it. "You'll find more in other places as you go. With Charlie. Hallie. Me, I hope. And hold onto that, too," he reasons. "Things can change so fast, Sugar. You never know one minute to the next where your joy's going to come from. Who or what's going to bring it to you. If it even comes at all," he moves his hand to and fro in front of us, as if conducting some silent symphony as he speaks. "It's a crazy, fucked up world, Kaylie," he shakes his head sadly. "Crazy, fucked up things happen, and when they do," he pauses to raise his eyebrows at me. "They'll wear you down, Sugar. You just gotta hold onto the good stuff," he chuckles. "Else you'll become as crazy and fucked up as the world is," he leans in close to my face. "You're my good stuff," he winks.

I smile, but shake my head as fresh tears start falling. "I just miss them so fucking much, Jack," I sob, throwing my arms around his neck. "It's not fair they're gone. It should have been him," I spit. "Not them."

"I know, baby," he grumbles. "If I could get the bastard, I'd skin him alive. Do the world a favour."

That pauses me momentarily. "Jack, what would that change?"

He pulls back and regards me at arm's length. "It's not about changing anything, Kaylie, it's about what's fair," he sighs. "Not right, not wrong, but fair."

I snuggle back into his arms. "He'll get his," I nod. "Someday."

"Someday," Jack agrees.

...

We wake up late the next day, and most of my extended family have made their way home. I'm glad to not have to deal with the send-off, and smile apologetically at Hallie, who is leaning on the stove with a cup of coffee to her lips when I walk into the kitchen. "Sorry, Hal," I mumble. "I overslept."

She shakes her head. "You needed it, sister-mine. I told everyone to let you sleep," she smiles sweetly. There is a long pause as we both stand looking around the kitchen of our dead parents. "What now?"

I shrug and lower myself into one of the kitchen chairs. "I don't know. I've never done this before," I attempt a smile, but it turns into a small, tearless, sob, and I take a deep breath. "You guys staying here?"

She nods. "Bella," she explains. "What about you and Jack?"

I furrow my brow and shake my head, pulling my legs up onto the chair with me. "I couldn't, Hal. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, Kaylie," she admonishes me gently. "I don't expect you to... I don't expect anything. I think we should both just do whatever feels right."

I nod. "Where's Charlie?" I look around the kitchen, not spotting my nephew anywhere.

"Daycare," She says. "Grady took him on his way to work."

That catches me slightly off guard. "Oh... I... We were going to..." I sigh. "Do you want me to stay?" I offer.

"No, Kaylie, if you guys were going to go, then go," she orders. "You don't have to stay here on account of me. I'll be fine. We'll both be. It's just going to take some getting used to."

I nod and raise my eyebrows. "I'll say," I look up and see Jack coming into the kitchen. He's showered and dressed. "Hey, Wild Card," I greet him. He smiles in response and kisses my forehead. "You ready to go?"

He nods. "You?"

I look to Hallie, who nods reassuringly. "Yes. I just need to get our stuff," I stand.

Jack stops me. "I'll get it, Sugar," he replies. "You call a cab."

...

The cats are attention starved by the time we get back to the apartment, so I collapse onto the living room floor and sit with them awhile. They weave themselves around my arms and jump to rub their heads in my hands. I can hear Jack on the phone with someone as he runs around the apartment putting our things away. I rest my hands at my sides and raise my head to watch him over the back of the sofa as he comes from the hallway and goes to the kitchen. He must be talking to Warren. I can't hear him well, he's talking quietly and I have the TV turned on. He hangs up the phone and looks down at me.

"Any news?" I ask casually.

Jack strolls around the sofa and flops down behind me. I lay my head backwards onto the sofa next to his lap and look up at him. "He wants to see me," he sighs, reaching around my head to trace circles lightly on my face. "Something to do with my win-ning smile, a-pparent-ly," he tells me, exaggerating his speech.

"Oh," I sit up and turn around, leaning back on the coffee table so that I can face him directly. "What are you going to do?"

He shrugs, his face dark. "I don't know," his voice is as dark as his face. "I've gotta meet with him."

I nod. "Yeah," I agree. "See what he says."

"I'm getting that gun from him, too," he pipes up casually, like he's talking about dry-cleaning. "Every other clown in this town has one, and I'm not going to be without one anymore. After what happened, it makes no sense to."

I don't address that. "When are you meeting him?"

"I was hoping for this afternoon," he suggests carefully. "But if you need me here..." his tone is gentler.

I shake my head. "No, Jack, it's fine," I assure him. "I can be by myself for a while. Just come back this time," I say lightly.

"Wow, Sugar," he smirks. "I thought my jokes were bad."

...

A/N - I just want to say, again, thank you so much to all of you reading, reviewing, faving and following! You really are amazing. Now, for the fun to begin!


	18. Seasons Change

_Seasons change feelings change_

_It's been so long since I found you_

_Yet it seems like yesterday_

_Seasons change people change_

_I'll sacrifice tomorrow_

_Just to have you here today_

_Forever seems so far away_

_There's time for love and for play_

_You dream about today_

_Feeling slips away_

_The winds that blow they go away_

_And seasons change_

**Expose - Seasons Change**

Warren had found them. Jack was pacing back and forth in the apartment and animatedly reporting to me that Warren had tracked down the men who had, as he put it, carved his face. It was late in the afternoon and Jack had just gotten back from an hour long meeting with his boss, one gun and whole lot of information stronger. The whole thing was becoming too much for me, and I began to shake my head and wave my hand in front of myself.

"Jack," I call out for his attention. "Jack, can we just stop for a minute?"

He stops pacing and looks at me, twisting his head to the side. "What?" He asks, seemingly now bored.

"Can you think about this?" I implore him. "What this means? Don't go running off half-cocked," he chuckles at me. "I'm serious, Jack. I just lost half my family," I remind him. "Please, Jack. Please don't put yourself in a situation where I could lose you, too," I'm begging, but I don't care.

He sighs loudly through his nostrils. "For weeks, I've been itching," he begins. "Itching," he repeats himself, darkly. "To find these pricks, and now that we know where they are, you're going to tape oven-mitts over my hands and say 'no scratching?' What do you care about these guys, Kayl?"

"I care about you, Jack," I walk into the kitchen and, out of habit, flick the kettle on.

"Ah, but I've got the element of surprise on my side, Sugar," he grins smugly. "They won't see it comin' 'til it's too late."

"Jack..." I lower my head.

He groans and comes to stand in front of me, tilting my face up to gaze sadly at his. "Shit," he grumbles. "If it's that important to you, Sugar, I'll sit on it," he says, frustrated. "Tell Warren to let it go. Fuck," he hisses and turns from me, swiping his hands roughly down his face.

I nod, though he can't see me. "Thank you, Jack," I sigh. "Just give it some time."

He's still facing away from me, but I see his head bob up and down. "Yeah. Time."

...

Jack is a bit testy with me for a little while after that conversation. Nothing extreme, but noticeable. He snapped at me a couple of times when I interrupted him while he was scribbling in that notebook of his, which is something he wouldn't normally do. He got uncharacteristically upset when I visited Hallie longer than intended one day. He was just generally shorter with me than he usually would be.

But after a couple of weeks, we seem to slip back into our routine. It's difficult getting back to normal after a loss like we've been through, but life goes on, for the living. Jack even goes back to work at the Wild Card Club, mostly behind the scenes. I'm sure he's doing some work for Warren, too, but I don't bring it up. Hallie and Grady have taken to living in the family house while things get settled, which is fine with me, as I don't have much interest in being there.

It's a Monday afternoon in June - a lazy one, for Jack and me - when there is a furious knock on our door. Jack jumps up off the sofa and I sit up straight in my chair. He looks at me quizzically, and I shrug. Another knock. "Kaylie?" Hallie's angry voice calls out. "Jack? You home?"

"Yeah," Jack calls out, marching to the door. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he grumbles, unlocking it and throwing it open. "Trouble in paradise?" He teases, assuming it's one of her and Grady's fights.

She shoots daggers at him with her eyes, then glares at me. "They let him out," she blurts. "It isn't even going to trial because some lazy fucking idiot cop didn't do his job right."

I realize what she's talking about and I gape at her. Someone responsible for four deaths is out walking around because proper protocol wasn't followed? "What?" I snap. "Four people are dead because of him," angry tears are threatening to hit my eyes. "How can this be?"

"Oh, it happens all the time, apparently," Hallie is seething. "If everything isn't done just so-" she tweaks her fingers. "-their lawyer can find some way to get them off with nothing. Less than a slap on the wrist. Only in fucking Gotham, right?" The wind is suddenly out of her sails and she crumples into a heap on our sofa. Jack is leaning on the island looking into the living room at us.

"Can... Can something else be done, or...?" I'm trying to scramble for a solution, but my mind is racing too quickly to even begin to think of anything.

She shakes her head. "No," she laughs bitterly. "No, it's done. That's that."

I look to Jack, who is staring at the back of the sofa and chewing on his thumb. "Jack?" His eyes snap to me and he shrugs.

"I don't know, Sugar," he says thoughtfully. "Not exactly my area of ex-per-tise," he draws the word out. "I can talk to someone for you, though."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Talk to who?" He opens his mouth to respond, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "No, you know what? I don't want to know," I jump to my feet, but just stand in front of my chair, not knowing where to turn. "This is too fucking much," I half-laugh, half-sob. "How is this right?" I look to Hallie, who is looking up at me, fuming.

"Right?" She scoffs. "What do the lawyers care about right as long as they're making a buck?" She rubs her thumb over her fingers. "Money's the only language these people speak, Kaylie."

"I don't believe this," I look, once again, to Jack, who has his calm, dark gaze settled on me. "I don't fucking believe this!" I scream, shaking my balled up hands in front of my face in frustration, nearly cracking myself in the head.

Jack moves quickly to stand next to the sofa. "Take it easy, Kaylie," he holds out his hand. "Take a breath."

I look to him hopelessly and shake my head, dropping it into my hands and plopping myself down next to Hallie on the sofa. Roughly, I pull her into a hug and she throws her arms around me. "It's done," her voice is defeated. "Let's not let this asshole ruin our lives any more than he already has, right?" She tries for optimism, but hits on desperation.

I pull away from her and smile through my tears. "Right," I nod once. "Completely destroyed is more than enough," I joke bleakly.

She angles her head disapprovingly at me. "As long as we're breathing, sister-mine, it can always get worse," she taps me on the nose. "Remember that."

...

"Penny for your thoughts, Sugar," I hear Jack sing-song from across the room. Hallie stayed for dinner, but left soon after. Jack and I are sitting - he at his desk scribbling, me in my chair reading - listening to the 8 o'clock news. At the sound of his voice, I realize my book had hit the floor and I am staring off into space.

I smirk. "Don't waste your money, Wild Card," I lean down to retrieve my book. "Nothing going on in here," I jest and tap my head with the book's corner.

"I don't believe that for a second," he grins, twisting his chair around and leaning far back in it, regarding me through narrowed eyes. He throws his hands behind his head and crosses his feet at the ankles. "Talk to me."

I glance at him and sigh, looking at a pick in the fabric on the arm of my chair. I begin to play with it absentmindedly. "You know where my mind's at, Jack," I roll my eyes, but don't meet his.

"No, Sugar, I know what you're thinking about," he corrects me. "I don't know where your mind is with it," he shakes his finger at me. "There's a difference."

I look over at him and his face is concerned and somewhat amused. "I don't know what you mean, Jack," I toss my book to the table with a thud. "Nothing can be done about it."

"I can do something," he says earnestly, touching his hand to the center of his chest. "You just say the word, and I can have something done."

"Jack," I gasp. "I'm not having this discussion again."

"I know you've been thinking about it, Sugar, you haven't looked down at your book since you opened it," he smirks. "I've got friends, babe, you know that. You do," he nods when he sees me shaking my head. "We don't talk about it much, but you know. Now, I'm not-" he stands and begins to pace, his excitement seeming to grow as he goes on. "I'm not saying anything here. All I'm doing is letting you know, you just say it-" he stops and slices his hand through the air quickly. "It's done."

I look at him, not sure how to react. A part of me is appalled at what he is implying. A part of me wants nothing more than to tell him to do it. A part of me is touched that he would offer. All of these battling emotions prove to be too much for me and I leap from my chair, grabbing my book from the table as I do so and hurl it across the room. It hits the edge of his desk and then the floor. "Will you just stop, Jack?" I yell, pressing my hands together in front of myself. "Will you stop talking like that? For Christ's sake," I storm to the bedroom without waiting for a reply. I stand in the middle of the room shaking with anger, fists balled up, arms bent at the elbows. My breath is shaky and fast and I want to scream. Instead, I grab my half-filled glass of water from my bedside table and throw it across the room. It hits the mirror on the dresser, cracking it, and smashes into pieces.

The relief I feel is instant, but brief. I hear Jack coming speedily down the hall, so I race across the room, ignoring the stinging as my feet find various shards of glass in the carpet, and pick up a small, musical jewelry box from the dresser. When I turn, Jack is in the door, concern in his dark eyes. His hand is held out in front of him and he is coming slowly towards me. "Kaylie, baby, calm down," he urges gently.

I sob and nearly crumble, but harden myself once more, pulling my arm back. "Don't," my voice is unsteady, but I refuse to cry. "I mean it, Jack, stop," he listens, but keeps his hand out in front of him.

"Just put that down, Sugar," he pleads. "And sit down so I can clean that mess up. You need to calm down."

I shake my head. "No," it comes out as an angry whine. "For months, I've been calm and collected. As much as I can be," my voice is thick, and I am still fighting back tears. "I've lost... so much," I shake my head. "But I told myself... I kept on telling myself that it would be okay. That some kind of justice would happen to at least try to make it right."

"I know, Sugar," his voice is sad and he lowers his hand, pushing his curls back with his other one.

"Know?" I scoff cruelly. "How can you know?" He fixes me with a glare and I am reminded of his scars. "What? That?" My voice sounds venomous to my own ears, but I can't stop myself. "That is nothing like this, Jack. It doesn't even come close!" I throw the jewelry box and it hits right above the headboard, singing its last couple of notes just before it splinters into more pieces than will ever be able to be fixed and falls to the bed. I grab for the next item, a heavy, ceramic dish I keep loose change, buttons, and other random odds in.

Before I can continue my rampage, Jack is on me, spinning me around and pulling me to him so that my back is against his chest. I struggle and drop the dish to the floor. I'm momentarily satisfied when it hits the floor and breaks, but then I am back to struggling against Jack's grip. "Shh, shh, shh, Kaylie," he says through gritted teeth. "You gotta calm down, Sugar," he repeats.

"Let go of me!" I shriek tearfully, but don't let up in my struggle. I finally manage to twist out of his hold and hit his chest with both hands before leveling my index finger at him. I don't remember the last time I'd felt such anger and though it's not really him I'm angry with, because he's the one there, he's the one I'm lashing out at. "Don't touch me," I spit. I soften when he takes a step backwards, a hurt expression on his face.

"Tell me what I can do, Sugar," he pleads sincerely, just wanting to make it all better.

I shake my head and snort derisively. "Do? Jack, there's nothing you can do," my voice is thick with emotion and I find myself once again fighting back tears. "It's like I've told you before, things happen. This -" my voice wavers. "- happened. My family is dead. People die. Some of them die terribly at the hands of some asshole out of his mind on booze who will never have to pay for what he's done, not ever," I somehow manage to choke this out without sobbing, but tears begin streaming down my face. "And there is nothing we can do. Nothing to be done. It just is. There is no right and wrong anymore, there is only perception, and in death? None of it matters," Jack stands in stunned silence after my tirade and I feel winded. "I know you mean well, Jack," I say through heavy breaths, losing steam. "But I need space... I can't... I just need space."

His face turns angry and he's nodding his head quickly. "Space?" He snorts. "Too much fucking space and the apartment will be dust!" He roars.

I drop my forehead to my right hand, darting my eyes around the room and taking in the damage as I recall my foolish outburst. "I'll stop," I promise, lifting my head once again. "I will."

He throws his hands up in defeat and storms from the room. I am relieved he listened to me. A moment later I hear - and feel - the door to the apartment slam as he leaves. My chest tightens and a painful sob finally escapes my body. I move to the foot of the bed and lower myself onto it, peeling my wet, blood-spotted socks from my feet, hissing as I feel the sting. "Stupid," I quietly chastise myself. Samson hops onto the bed and cautiously walks over to me lifting and lowering his head as he examines the room. I put my hand out to him, and he pushes his head into it, letting out a comforting purr.

With a disgruntled sigh, I stand back up, careful not to put my feet down in anymore broken glass. I hobble to the bathroom and hop up on the counter, running the water in the sink. I gently wash my feet, then cover them with assorted bandages and put a fresh pair of socks on. I slip my shoes on before going back into the bedroom, just in time to chase Samson away from the mess before his curiosity killed him. I clean the broken glass up, shaking my head again at my foolishness. When I am done, it is past 10 o'clock. Jack isn't home yet, but he's probably still trying to cool down. I can't blame him.

I decide that I need some air, so I throw on a light denim jacket and make my way down and out of the building. I lean on the brick work outside the door and enjoy the cool, June breeze for a few minutes. When I glance up, I see the bus is approaching my usual stop across the street. On a whim, I run across the road and hop on just in time. I have just enough change in my pocket to board, having left my pass in my purse upstairs. The bus is, thankfully, almost empty. I flop down into a seat close to the front and gaze out the window as we start moving.

Out of habit, I get off the bus at the hotel. Reg looks surprised to see me, and I shrug as I approach him. "What's up?" He asks, slightly concerned.

"Just needed to get out," I explain.

He chuckles deep in his throat. "Here? You're here all the damn time, girl."

I laugh back at him, then my expression turns sad. "I didn't know where else to go," I throw my hands up and stretch a smile across my face, trying to bid away my tears.

"'Ey, Kaylie, s'alright, honey," his tone is deep and gentle. "I'm just playin' with ya, you know that. Go on inside. It's not busy. Ern's there."

I nod and pat his arm thankfully. When Ern sees me, he first smiles as though pleasantly surprised. When he notices my face, which I'm sure is red and wretched looking, his face drops and he comes around the corner and pulls me into a hug. "Out back, sweetie, I'll be there in a minute. I'll grab a drink," he pulls away and pats me gently on the back pushing me towards the back door. I nod and go ahead, purposefully avoiding eye contact with any of my other co-workers.

True to his word, Ern is there a moment later, two colourful looking drinks in his hand. "Spill, and I don't mean the drink, Kay-Kay," he points at me, widening his eyes. "What's the matter?"

I take a long sip from my drink and meet his eyes. "The drunk... The one who crashed into the car?" I pause to make sure he understands what I'm saying. He nods for me to continue. "He's getting off. Something wasn't handled properly at the scene... I don't know all the details. Hallie told me this afternoon."

Erns hand is on his chest and his jaw is dropped open. "Oh my God, Kaylie, I can't believe that," he gasps.

I bite out a harsh laugh. "Neither could I," I take another sip of my drink. "I, uh, had a bit of a meltdown at the apartment," I confess, embarrassed. "Jack and I kind of got into it. I said some pretty harsh things."

Ern shrugs. "Jack's got to understand where you're coming from, sweetie,"

"Oh, he does," I nod, raising my eyebrows. "He just thinks I should be more angry about it, I guess," Ern's eyebrows knit together in confusion. I wave my hand dismissively. "It's nothing. Forget I said it."

"No, no, no, Missy, you just said you had a meltdown? How much angrier can you be?" He raises his hands questioningly.

I sigh. "I got the feeling he wanted me to take justice into my own hands. Have something done about it, I guess."

Ern laughs and shakes his head. "Like what? Go all vigilante-drunk-hunter on his ass? Let's be reasonable here."

I raise my eyebrows again in agreement as I nod my head approvingly. "Right? I am being reasonable. It just seems that," I sigh deeply. "It seems like since Jack was... cut again, he wants vengeance and an eye for an eye and all that. It's not Jack."

Ern sips his drink. "We've all heard how an eye for an eye leaves the world, Kaylie. If every wrong ever done were followed up by revenge, we'd all be in a pretty sorry state," I nod in agreement. "Still. What you guys have been through lately? You'd have to be made of stone for it not to change your outlook some. Maybe you both need some time to adjust."

I sigh and finish my drink. "Maybe. Thanks for the drink, Ern. I should let you get back to work," he reaches across the little table and squeezes my hand caringly. "Is it okay if I hang out back here for a bit? I just want..." I trail off.

"Say no more, Kay-Kay," he holds up a hand between us. "Stay as long as you want. I'll be out front if you need me."

...

I end up staying at the hotel until the bar closes, which is a good thing, as I remember I spent my last bit of change on the bus ride there. Ern generously offers me a ride home, and enthusiastically fills the ride with silly stories of customers throughout the evening. By the time I get back to the building, it is almost three in the morning. I sigh and decide to take the elevator up to the apartment.

I grab my keys from my pocket and open the door. When I push it open, I am surprised to find it completely still, as I had left it, with no sign of Jack at home. "Jack?" I call out. No reply. Thinking he may have gone to bed, I quietly go to the bedroom. He isn't there. Nor is he in the bathroom. I take a deep breath and remind myself not to panic. He'll be fine. He's armed now, at least, and probably still mad at me.

I'm not home ten minutes when the phone rings. My stomach drops as I remember my last late night phone call. "Hello?" I say cautiously into the receiver as I put it to my ear.

"Kaylie?" Hallie squeals angrily. "She's there!" I hear her shout. "Jack? She's home. Where the hell have you been?" She snarls into the phone. "We've been all over the city looking for you. We were worried sick!"

"I'm sorry," I gasp, surprised. "I just went into work. Had a drink with Ern. I needed to get out," I defend myself. I hear Hallie repeat my words to, I assume, Jack and Grady.

"No note?" I hear Jack roar in the background. "Nothing to let us know you're okay?" The last word comes through loudly as, I guess, Hallie thrusts the phone into Jack's hand.

"Well, excuse me, Mr. Wild Card, but I don't remember hearing any word from you about where you stormed off to tonight, did I?" I remind him, trying not to let my anger grow again.

"You were so pissed off when I left, I figured I'd come home and you'd be calmed down and we'd clean up the bedroom and whatever else you destroyed in the meantime and talk," he explains through obviously gritted teeth. "I was giving you your damn space, as requested. I was gone all of an hour," he sighs loudly into the phone, frustration evident in his voice.

"All well and good to say that now, Jack," I bark, irritated. "I'm not a mind reader."

"What, so you thought it was a good idea to go hop on a bus as take off?" He raises his voice slightly. "You left your bag there with your bus pass in it. I thought you had gone out wandering the Narrows on your own," another sigh as he tries calming himself down.

I close my eyes and pause a moment before I speak. "I went outside, Jack. For some air. I meant to come right back up, but I saw the bus. I had some change... I don't know why I went, but I did. And I'm fine. Where did you look, anyway, if not the hotel? Where else would I go?"

There is an awkward pause on the other end. "The cemetery," he says quietly. "We thought you might've..." he trails off. "A couple coffee places. Around," he is calmer now.

"Come home, Jack," I plead.

"No more space?" I can hear the relieved smile in his voice.

"No more space," I smile. "Apologize, again, to my worry-wart sister for me, will you? I'm going to put the kettle on. See you soon?"

"Soon," he confirms. "Love you."

I can't help but grin. "Love you more."

...

A/N - Sorry for the lack of Jack-to-Joker in this one. There are hints of it here and there, but I felt that where Kaylie's head is at had to be established a bit. Hope you're all still enjoying it. Thanks for all reading, reviewing, faving and following! You guys rock my socks!


	19. And The Gates, They Swung To The Changes

_Old bloody orange_

_There was a time,_

_There was a day_

_When we came and went_

_And the gates, they swung to the changes_

_In the wind._

_There was a night when,_

_We reached and clawed for each other_

_Oh please say that it's not,_

_It's not lost forever._

**Hawksley Workman - Old Bloody Orange**

"Kaylie?" I hear Jack call out as soon as he's in the door.

"In here," I reply from the bedroom, where I'm down on my knees picking up various items which were knocked over during my freak-out and soaking up the water with a towel. I look over my shoulder as he reaches the door, his hands on either side of the frame as he leans in tentatively. "Hey," I smile sheepishly.

He nods and steps into the room, glancing around before his eyes come to rest on the broken pieces of the jewelry box on the bed. Wordlessly, he leans over and picks up the larger two pieces, holding them together before shrugging. "I think it's a write-off, Sugar," he sighs.

I laugh and push myself to my sore feet, leaning my backside against the dresser. "I think this whole day's a write-off," I look upwards and shake my head, then meet Jack's eyes. "What I said... Jack, I'm so sorry," I push off of the dresser and take a step towards the foot of the bed.

He waves a hand towards me, then holds it out for me to take. I do, and he pulls me to him next to the bed. "Don't worry about it, Sugar, it's done."

I rest my head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. "I was such a bitch," I whisper. I feel Jack chuckle and turn to look up at him. "It's not funny."

He raises his eyebrows at me and his grin grows. "The idea of you as a bitch is hi-larious! Kaylie, you were upset. You have every right to be. I'd be more worried if you weren't."

I pull back from him a bit more and rest my hands on his chest. "Can you promise me something?" I ask, searching his eyes. He knits his eyebrows together and nods. "The next time I ask for space, take it to mean twenty paces?"

He grins and pulls me back into his chest, wrapping his arms low around my hips, his hands resting on my backside. "You got it," he smiles and brings his lips down to mine. "C'mere," then he runs his hands down to my thighs and pulls me up off the ground, making me squeal into his mouth. He laughs in the back of his throat and, just as I think he's going to lower me onto the bed, he turns and presses my back up against the wall.

I gasp as Jack roughly pulls my panties aside and unzips his pants. I gasp again as he pushes himself into me and begins taking me against the wall. His hands hold my thighs in a bruising grip, but all I can feel is the ecstasy of our bodies working together to one goal. He is a bit rougher than usual. I can feel my lower back hitting the wall harder and harder the closer we get, but it is welcome. After the day we've both had, at the time it feels like a suitable way to work out some frustration. I finish with a moan a moment before he does, silently with a final hard thrust. As soon as we're through, his grip on my thighs relaxes and his hands caress the area gently. He smiles apologetically, as though he'd just realized how tight he had been holding on. I smile back and kiss him appreciatively, letting him know I needed it as much as he did.

...

I trudge to the bathroom the next morning on stiff, tired legs, stretching in front of the mirror when I get there. As I reach my arms high above my head, the over-sized t-shirt I wore to bed the night before raises up to reveal a blue, oval-shaped bruise on each of my thighs. My eyes widen and I turn, holding the shirt up so I can look at the back, and sure enough, there are four similar ovals on the back of each one. I shake my head and chuckle to myself before going about my business.

When I am done, I emerge from the bathroom and go down the hall to see Jack sitting at the island munching on some cereal. He grins at me as he chews and I smile back. "You're going to have to take it easy on me, Wild Card," I tease, lifting my shirt at his puzzled expression. "You left your mark."

His eyes grow wide, just as mine had, and he runs his fingers gently over the bruise and around to the back where he does the same. "Shit, Sugar, I'm sorry," he says sincerely, but not entirely without amusement. "Better make sure not to wear a short skirt to work tonight."

I push his hands away from my legs and scoff as I walk into the kitchen to pour myself a bowl of cereal, as well. "If I wore a skirt that short, I'd have more to worry about than bruises," I laugh. Jack simply wiggles his eyebrows at me suggestively.

He's quiet for a moment, though I notice him glance up at me from time to time before I hear him clear his throat. "Why there?" I look at him, puzzled. "The Beckford. Why did you go there last night?"

I shrug. "I knew Ern would be there. I needed to talk to someone about things."

"What things?" He stresses, raising his eyebrows.

"You know," I shrug again, sitting down across from him. "This business with the drunk getting off."

"Hmm," he grunts through a mouthful of cereal, looking away from me once again. "Nothing else?"

"What exactly are you asking, Jack?" I cut to the chase, irritated.

His eyes hit mine and he drops his spoon into his bowl with a loud clank. "I'm asking, did you discuss anything else?" His voice mirrors my irritation. "What I said? Hmm? What I offered?"

I sigh, relieved for reasons I'm not quite sure of. "Oh, Jack," I smile reassuringly. "Of course not. I'd never do that," he nods and goes back to finishing his cereal, but I can see that his mind is still wandering. "Do you think I could distract you from this train of thought for a little while?" I smile innocently, but Jack sees right through it.

Previous irritation is forgotten on both sides. "Sugar, there isn't much you couldn't distract me from when you look at me like that," he grins.

...

For a couple days, everything seems to continue on as normal. Jack and I go to work, come home, take the stairs, have our tea, have our fun. Until the following Friday, while fooling around in bed after work, Jack starts getting rough again. I'm kneeling on the bed with him behind me, and he moves his hands from my hips to my shoulders, gripping tightly enough that my bones hurt.

I pull at his fingers with one of my hands. "Ease up, tiger," I laugh dryly.

"What?" He mumbles distractedly, but doesn't let go.

I pull on him more forcefully, pulling away from him with my body as well, which seems to register with him, as he finally lets me go and I turn myself around to lay on my back underneath him, crossing my arms over my chest to rub my shoulders. "I said easy," I reply with less humor.

He nods dismissively. "Right. Sorry, Sugar," he shrugs before getting back down to business and pulling my legs around his waist.

He is pounding into me at a fast pace with his hands on my hips, and it seems with each thrust he tightens his grip. It reaches a point where all I can feel are his hands digging into my hips. I squeeze my eyes shut. "Jack, stop," I command and he ceases his movements, looking down at me darkly.

"What?" He heaves irritably.

"You're hurting me," I say with controlled anger through gritted teeth, pushing at his chest. He stares at me blankly. "I think you know you are... I think you like it..." My voice is quiet. "What's going on, Jack? We've never... been like this," I briefly search his face for answers.

He lets me go, shoving me away from him. He pushes his hand through his growing curls and turns away from me, shaking his head. Wordlessly, he puts his hands on his hips and leaves the room, grabbing his clothes in his hand on his way out. Then I hear him leave the apartment. I'm left lying naked on the bed aghast, confused and unsatisfied. With no idea where he went or when he would be home, I settle on a quick shower and then head to bed to sleep. If I'd known what I'd be facing when he returned home that afternoon, I would have gotten the hell out of there. But, you know what they say. Hindsight is always 20/20.

...

I'm sitting in my chair reading when Jack returns. Still upset about earlier, I don't acknowledge him. He walks past me to sit in his desk chair, which he turns to face me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. I can see him watching me from the corner of my eye, but I don't look up until he speaks. "You were right," he says finally with a sigh. My soft brown eyes meet his dark ones. "I do like it," he hits the "t" and blinks slowly afterwards. "It might be a good idea for you to... Tread carefully for a while," he speaks slowly, almost cautiously.

"Me?" I gasp, equal parts shocked and angry. "Jack, we were having sex. I highly doubt I was being that annoying," I snap, appalled at his nerve. "Maybe you need to start trying to show some goddamn self-control!"

He twitches his head to the right and sits back in his chair, slowly clenching and unclenching his jaw and hand. When he speaks again, his voice is still quiet, but slightly higher pitched and more fevered. He uses his hands as he speaks. "You. Have. No. Clue," he begins slowly, punctuating each word with a jab of his fist. "How much self-control it's taking right now," he pauses purposefully, raising his eyebrows and pointing to the floor. "To not get out of this chair," he slowly taps the arms of his chair twice with his index fingers, then brings his fists side by side and twists them sharply. "And snap your fucking neck."

My jaw drops. Jack had never spoken to me like that before. I feel anger flare up, but after his revelation, I don't think it's wise to show it. I tear my eyes away from his, which are now black, and calmly close my book, setting it quietly on the coffee table. I get up and walk to the bathroom, needing to put some distance between us. As I lock the door behind me, I hear a frenzied flurry of movement down the hall, followed by the deafening sound of Jack's fist practically splitting the bathroom door in two. I jump nearly out of my skin.

"I say something like that and you just walk away?" His voice is demonic. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He roars.

"You want to know what the fuck is wrong with me, Jack? Really?" My voice is high, loud and shaking with fear. "After what you just said, go take a long look in the mirror."

There is silence for a moment, and then he really does break down the door, splintering the frame as he kicks it in. I let out a yelp as he grabs me harshly by my arm and pulls me out of the bathroom. I struggle against him and yank myself from his grip. I make a dart for the door, but he is on me in an instant. He grabs me by the collar and slams me into the wall of our entryway, momentarily knocking the wind out of me. He stands over me, the knuckles of his hands pressing painfully into my collarbone. I have my hands wrapped around his wrists in a weak attempt to stop whatever he intends to do. I can feel his breath hitting my face in furious bursts. I stand as still as a statue, eyes wide and staring into his.

"Please..." I whimper, though to this day I'm not sure what I was asking for.

At the sound of my voice, I can feel him relax. He lets go of my collar. I keep my hands tightly around his wrists. He twists them out of my grip and falls back onto the opposing wall, sliding down to the floor. Without anything to hold onto, my knees-of-jelly have me mirroring the action. My hands are clutching where his had been on my collar moments before.

Jacks breath is still coming in short, ragged bursts. His head is down and in his hands. My eyes are burning with hot tears that won't fall and my breath is still shaky. I can't take my fearful eyes off of the love of my life. His head snaps up suddenly and I try to jump backwards through the wall before settling again.

"It's not meant for you, Sugar," he mutters sadly.

I take a slow breath before answering him. "What isn't?" My voice is childlike and pathetic to my own ears.

He grab his own collar as I'm holding mine. "This," then he points down the hall towards the bathroom. "That," he rests his arms back on his bent knees, letting his hands dangle between them. "Any of it," he sighs. "You deserve better."

I shake my head despite myself and roll my eyes upwards, resting my head back against the wall so I don't have to look at him. "That's your job, Wild Card," I sigh, a tear finally escaping my eye and rolling down my face. "You took that job ages ago. Give me better. You don't have to do this," my voice cracks.

Jack kneels and I hear him shuffle over to me on his knees. I instantly tense and snap my head forward to look him in the eye. His eyes are dark as ever, but not angry; not violent. "Shh, shh-shh," he puts his hands up defensively, then brings one to my face to wipe the tear away, which only brings more. He cups my face and wipes at the tears with his thumbs, his eyes boring into mine. "I want to," he says, his reassuring tone a contradiction to his dangerous words. "Sugar, I want to do this," he admits again. I try to pull my face from his hands, but he tightens his hold. "I just don't want to do it to you," without another word, he plants a kiss to my forehead and rises to his feet. He disappears back down the hall and leaves me to cry on my own.

...

The rest of the day is awkward. Jack and I barely speak. I call in to work and Ern, as always, is understanding. I don't tell him what happened, just that I can't face going in there today. Jack goes to work, and I am glad for the break. I need to think. I've never been given a reason to question Jack before, let alone fear him. And I was afraid. For my life. There was something so unfamiliar in his eyes, and it was terrifying. I decide to stay up and wait for him to get home. It won't get easier to talk about if we avoid it. If we avoid it, it will be too easy to continue avoiding it and it will never get resolved.

He looks surprised to see me sitting at the island when he gets home. I smile sadly up at him, spinning my mug between my fingers on the island. I point across to his spot, where a tea is sitting for him. "I, uh... I think we should talk?" I don't know why it comes out as a question, but it does.

He nods and sits down, looking at me regretfully. His face full of shame for a moment when his eyes take notice of the angry, finger-shaped bruises around my arm. My heart breaks a little bit at his expression. "That sounds like a good idea," he sighs, but his voice is laced with dread.

For the entire evening, as I'd been trying to plan out this conversation, I had gotten nowhere. I had no idea where to begin. I search my mind for the words, and finally they come flying out of my mouth hastily. "What the fuck, Jack?" My voice is raspy and I sound hurt. "What happened?"

He bounces his knee and taps his fingers as he, too, tries to find the words. "It's not going away, Sugar," he tells me, sadly and bluntly. "Even after all this time. It keeps me up at night, I'm totally focused on doing something about this," he gestures to his face. "When I get to thinking about it, it's fucking tunnel vision," he points his fingers from his eyes outwards to demonstrate. "I'm just sitting, stewing on all of this... This... Anger!" He exclaims. "What happened here today? With you? It was completely unacceptable. I know that," he nods, bringing an index finger to his temple. "But unless I am able to get some fucking relief from this nagging, I can't guarantee that it won't happen again," he confesses. "Or worse," he says darkly. "I've only held back for you. Because of you. _You_ asked me no_**t**_ to," he narrows his eyes at me with a sneer.

"I just don't know why you feel like you need to get even," I whisper, trying to keep myself from crying. "Why you're having such a hard time moving on."

He raises his eyebrows. "Moving on?" He jumps up and walks to the counter, quickly pulling a knife from the block. He points it at me and takes a step forward. "Let's see if you can just move on if I carve you from ear to ear, hmm, Kayl?" His voice is sinister and I fearfully slide to my feet from the stool, taking a step back. "Let's see if you're as for-giving then, Sugar, how 'bout that?"

"Jack, put the fucking knife down!" I gasp, disbelieving, scared and angry.

He pauses and blinks, but doesn't move. "I was just making a poin_**t**_, Kay-lie," he says dryly before turning and throwing the knife into the sink with a clang. He puts his hands on the edge of the counter and leans himself over it, taking a long, shaky breath.

I take a careful step forward. "I get it," I quietly say. "I get the point, Jack."

He looks sideways at me and raises an eyebrow. "Do you, now?"

I nod. "I do. If-" I take a breath, and then another step forward. "If there is something you need to do-" I raise my eyebrows pointedly. "Then you should do it. But, Jack?" He turns to face me fully now, crossing his arms over his chest and considering my words thoughtfully. "This is about you. Not them," I point angrily to the door before turning on my heel and pushing my hair out of my face, resting my hands on top of my head.

It's only a moment before I feel Jacks hands on my arms, lowering them and turning me around. He presses his lips to mine and I can't not kiss him back. "That's my point, Sugar," he sighs as our lips part. "I need this."

...

With Jack off on his mission once again, helping Warren track down the men who attacked him, I decide to go on a mission of my own. It is less than a week later and I am standing in front of a dilapidated apartment building. Despite the fact that it is Sunday, Jack has a meeting with Warren, so I am able to slip away from the apartment undetected. The state of this building is worse than the one we live in, and it is deeper in the Narrows. I swallow thickly as I look down at the piece of paper in my hand where I had hastily scribbled down the address.

I walk into the building and am not surprised to find there is no security door and no lock on the main entrance. I can simply walk up the stairs to the floor I need to go to - third - and knock on the door of the apartment - 311. I knock once, and hear nothing but the television blaring inside.

"Mrs. Napier?" I call out after I knock a second time. "My name's Kaylie Cameron, I-"

"Kaylie?" I hear her gasp from the other side of the door, only a millisecond before I hear her unlock the door and it flies open, revealing a tired, thin, middle aged woman with a cigarette in her hand and shock on her face. Her hair is dull, blonde and curly, but she has it clipped away from her face and it's plain to see she was, at one time, a beautiful woman. "The Kaylie?"

I nod in confirmation, perplexed at her recognition of my name. "I needed to talk to someone."

She looks around behind me, confused. "Where's Jack?"

"He doesn't know I'm here," I admit, before confusion crosses my face, too. "Wait a minute, you know who I am?"

She moves to let me in and I follow her into the nicotine-scented apartment. "Of course I do. My boy goes on and on about you in his letters. I'm not surprised he's not with you. He never wanted me to meet you. Told me to stay the hell away," she laughs a smoky laugh and pulls out two chairs from a rickety dining table and sits in one. I sit down in the other.

"Why not?" I pry.

"What do you want to talk to me about?" She asks pointedly, and that answers the question for me. Jack mustn't want me to know about his past.

"But he writes you?" I push. "Regularly?"

She shrugs, taking a drag off her cigarette. "Every couple months. Sometimes less. It's been ages now. I thought something had happened." I swallow guiltily. She notices and her eyes widen. "What? What's happened?"

"He got... Hurt... Again," I begin. "His mouth. His smile. Someone cut it open again."

She covers her mouth and gasps. "Oh my God, you poor girl," not the reaction I was expecting. "What's he done?"

...

A/N - He's starting to slip a bit now! Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Thanks so much to everyone still reading, reviewing, faving and following. I appreciate anyone taking the time to do so, and particularly reading your reviews always makes me smile. I hope that no one was hit too hard by the storm this weekend. It's got me snowed in here in NS, but not too bad besides. I'll see you guys next week with another chapter! Thanks, again!


	20. Everything Changes Evrything Falls Apart

_Everything changes everything falls apart_

_I can't stand to feel myself losing control_

_In the depth of my senses I know_

_How stupid could I be?_

_A simpleton could see_

_That you're no good for me_

_But you're the only one I see_

**Sarah McLachlan - Stupid**

Her name is Beverly and she is 56. She got married too young to a man named Roy. Had a child with him. My Jack. Roy was hard-working and provided for his family, but he was also a heavy drinker with a mean temper. He treated his wife and child like dirt when he was drunk, which was more often than not. He died in a workplace accident when Jack was thirteen. Ten minutes talking to Beverly Ryan - she had gone back to her maiden name shortly after the death of her husband - and I knew more about Jack's past than I had learned in the past two years. I listened intently as she told me about the first time Jack was given his smile.

"It was awful," she takes a drag off her cigarette and shakes her head. "A damn shame. He was such a sweet, beautiful boy. Nine years old, you know, when those hoodlums did that to him," I can hear the anger, sadness and a hint of disgust in her voice. "When we got to the hospital, I couldn't believe it. What kind of monster would do that do a baby?" She looks to me as though still looking for the answer. I shake my head. My heart is aching for her. "It was afterwards things really changed," she explains. "He turned right in on himself. When we tried to bring him out - me and the teachers. Doctors. Whoever - he got angry," she nods.

"What did he do?" I ask tentatively.

She flashes a brief, small smile before answering. "He lashed out. Threw things. Yelled. Screamed. Hit. Kicked. However he reacted, you could count on it not bein' good. Went on for over a year. I even considered, to my shame, putting him into an institution or something. His father, even, horrible as he was, wouldn't mess much with Jack after that. Didn't even want to look at him, really."

"Why did he stop?" I pry. "Lashing out, I mean?"

She shrugs. "Not sure," she admits. "I always figured he got used to seeing what he saw in the mirror everyday. Feeling how his face felt. I don't know. I was too scared to ask. That maybe if I brought it up, he'd go back to it. So I let it be."

"Did he ever talk about... revenge?" I push. "About wanting to hurt the kids who hurt him?"

She frowns. "Far as we knew, he didn't know those kids," she explains. "Said it was random. Turned a corner, knocked one of 'em into another one and they grabbed him. He didn't talk about it much more than that. Why?"

I shake my head. "It's not important," I lie, glancing at the clock on the wall. "I should go. It's getting late," I stand up and start walking to the door. She follows.

"Are you safe, honey?" She asks me in her smoke-abused voice and, not for the first time that day, I feel a pang of despair for the woman. She raised such a beautiful, caring, damaged and terrifying individual. It was plain to see that it had worn her down. Like it would wear me down if I wasn't careful. "He's much larger now than he was the first time 'round," she smiles.

I nod and shrug, opening the door. "Thanks for doing this. I'm glad to have met you," I say sincerely. She nods. "Maybe someday, Jack will introduce us officially," I smile.

She laughs hoarsely, without humor, and doesn't address that idea. "Be careful, Kaylie. He loves you, but he may only be more dangerous because of that."

I nod again and close the door, leaving the apartment of a woman I'd never met before, will never see again, and somehow feel closer to than I do many of my dearest friends. I could be her someday, and it's a thought that fills me with dread. That isn't how I want to end up. Tired. Worn. Alone. I shake the thoughts from my head and race to the bus stop, happy I was able to get out of there before dark.

...

Though I am alone, I take the stairs up to the apartment, lost in my thoughts. I am torn from them, however, when I push open the door to the apartment and am met with Jack's angry face fuming from the window sill, cigarette in hand. "What's wrong?" I don't move from the doorway, still shaken from his last violent outburst, and not liking the expression on his face.

He sneers at me. "Where did you go?" His voice is low and calm, but laced with something dangerous I've heard there before.

My hand tightens on the doorknob and I still don't walk inside. I shrug, as nonchalant as I can manage. "It's a nice day, I was bored. I went for a walk."

His eyes narrow and he rolls his head downward. He doesn't believe me. "Where. Did. You. Go?" He asks again, clipped and impatient, flicking his cigarette out the open window and pushing himself to his feet.

My heart is racing, but I need to stay calm and hope he follows suit. I smile and step inside, not closing the door. "For. A. Walk," I reply, humor in my voice I hope he can't tell is feigned. "No luck today?" I change tack, hoping to distract him.

He glares at me. "No," he says simply. "Why is it whenever I leave, you disappear? Hmm?" He moves towards me, stopping at my chair in the living room. I linger in the entryway, door still open.

"What? I'm supposed to wait around pining for you whenever you aren't here?" I snort. "Are you worried? I'm fine. I can go out in public. Come on, Jack, what's going on?"

"You tell me," he flicks his fingers between us and moves closer. My heart echoes in my ears and I feel like turning and running back down the stairs, but I stay where I am.

Finally and with dread, I shut the door, not wanting to encourage his suspicions, whatever they may be. "I don't know what you're talking about," I kick my shoes off and walk into the kitchen, hugging the wall so as to maintain as much distance between us as possible, but still keep him in my sight. "Do you want something to drink?" To my surprise, he nods. His expression, however, remains the same as he moves to sit at his spot at the island. I pour him a whiskey and set it in front of him. Before I can turn back around, he snatches my wrist tightly and awkwardly in his hand. "Jack!"

His fingers push down painfully on my pulse point and his expression darkens further. "Why are you so nervous, Sugar?"

I try, unsuccessfully, to wrench my arm from his grasp. "The last time you were this angry, you pulled me out of the bathroom and threw me against the wall," my voice is quavering. My free hand is gripping the island and I'm trying to push myself away from him. "What did I do, Jack?"

His eyes narrow further for a moment, then he lets me go. I throw myself backwards until I'm leaning on the sink, rubbing my sore wrist. He swipes a hand through his curls. "Nothing," he grumbles, exasperated, not meeting my eyes. He clasps his hands together on the island, and I can hear his knuckles cracking as he tightens them. "I'm sorry, Sugar," he raises his eyes to mine. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing," his voice is lost, almost confused, and he looks away from me again. "I need to find these guys. That'll sort it out."

I find my voice again. "And until then?" As much as I feel like bursting into tears, I proudly keep them at bay. "Every time I come home, I'm going to be grabbed, yelled at, interrogated and thrown around? That's not okay with me. I can't live in fear, Jack. Especially of you."

His eyes meet mine again. They're still remorseful, but there is anger smoldering behind them. "It's not O-K with me, either," his tone is strained. "I don't want you to be afraid, Kaylie. Of anything."

I nod. "Well, I am. Right now, I don't want to be here," I blink away tears. "Maybe I should go spend a couple days at the house with Hallie."

"Now, now, there's no need for tha_**t**_," he slips his tongue along his scars, stands and starts to come around the island. I move towards the fridge to keep the distance between us. "C'mere, Sugar, don't run from me," there is surprise in his voice.

We aren't running, but I don't stop moving away from him. I go to the living room and put the sofa between us. "Stop this, Jack. Right now."

He stops and taps a rhythm on the back of the sofa with his fingers. The sofa is between me and him, and I am between the sofa and the coffee table. "Dontcha trust me, Sugar?" The dangerous lilt is back in his voice.

"Right now?" I quietly ask, taking a small step backwards and shake my head so slightly I'm not sure he notices.

He does. His eyes darken dramatically and he launches himself over the sofa at me. Instinctively, I try to run from him, but the coffee table is right behind me and I end up falling backwards over it. With my eyes squeezed shut, I push myself back to the wall with my legs, and Jack is in my face by the time I feel the wall at my back. "Please, Jack, stop," I cry. "I don't want to do this again."

He shocks me by gently cradling my face in his hands. When I open my eyes, the anger that had been in his is replaced with concern. "You okay?"

"You did this," I'm shaking and I pull my knees to my chest, just to have something between me and Jack.

"I know, Sugar," he sighs and sits back on his heels. I breathe a sigh of relief for the distance. "I tried not to," he whispers sadly, eyes gazing upward. Not knowing what to say or do, I lower my forehead onto my knees and cry quietly, not wanting him to see me like that. When I feel Jacks fingers on my calf, I flinch away from him. I hear him sigh and stand up, then after a moment, I hear him walk away into the bathroom and shut the door. Only then do I raise my head.

The living room is a disaster. The coffee table on its side, everything that had been on it is thrown all over the floor (including a half-drank can of soda), the sofa cushions are on the floor, and Jack's desk chair is rolled out almost to the dining room. I stand up and hiss through my teeth at the pain in my back and legs. I hobble over to the table and stand it up, then toss the cushions back onto the sofa before sitting down. I hear water running in the bathroom. Jack must be in the shower. I survey the rest of the mess on the floor with a sigh and get up again. I lower myself to my knees and start picking up the scattered papers, books, coasters and other odds and ends that usually sit on our coffee table, putting them back in their places as I go. I hear the water turn off and I freeze. I hear the bathroom door open and stand. Jack sheepishly comes to stand at the end of the hallway, shame all over his face.

"You're here," he announces with surprise.

"For some stupid reason," I scoff.

"I'm sorry," he offers.

"You should be," I spit.

He takes a step forward. "I am," I take a step back. "Sugar, this isn't me," there is a hint of fear in his voice now. "You know that. I'd never..." he sighs through his nose in an effort to calm himself. "Never."

I can feel myself starting to cry again and want to slap myself for it. "You did, though," I feel the telltale crinkling in my nose and lump in my throat. I want to run into Jack's arms, only he's the reason I'm crying. "You hurt me," I voice the word he couldn't bring himself to say. "More than once," I remind him.

"I know," he moves to sit on the sofa, and the motion sends me scurrying to his desk, which I lean on for support. "Babe-"

"Don't 'babe' me, Jack," I cut him off and point my finger at him. We are both silent for a moment staring at one another. "God," I sigh, turning my eyes to the ceiling. "If I had a brain in my head... If I had any sense at all," I look to his eyes again. "I'd walk out that door and never come back," his eyes widen fearfully at the notion and I shake my head. "Why can't I do that?"

"It'd fuckin' kill me, Sugar," he sounds on the verge of tears, and for whatever reason, that makes me feel awful. "Please don't go," his voice is barely above a whisper.

"I'm not going anywhere," I say plainly. Relief floods over his face. "Not permanently," he looks at me cautiously. "We've both been through so much lately. None of it's getting... resolved like it should be. I love you, Jack," I say, tears starting up again. "I can't leave you. But I can't stay right now. I'm going to go to Hallie's for a couple days," he starts to argue. "Just a couple days," I speak over him. "I promise."

"What if you don't come back?" His voice is quiet, uncertain and, if I hear it correctly, fear.

I shake my head. "I couldn't stay away from you," I reveal. "Honestly, Wild Card, I'll be lucky if I can stay away a night. We just need some time to cool down."

"I'm cool," he smirks. "Honest."

I don't return his smile. "I'm not. And I can't here. Not after..." I trail off. Finally, he nods and I know I've won. "I'm going to go pack an overnight bag. I'll be back Tuesday after work," I take a step towards the hallway, but hesitate, only continuing when he finally sits down on the sofa. "I really need to spend some time with my sister, anyway," I reason.

"Right," Jack nods, but doesn't look up at me. He is staring straight ahead, leaning on the arm of the sofa and chewing on his thumbnail. He is still like that when I go to leave. He doesn't acknowledge my goodbye.

...

I'd been at the house less than fifteen minutes when Hallie called me out. "Alright, sister mine, what's up?" She says impatiently, setting her drink down on the end table closest to her and twisting on the sofa so that she's facing me at the other end.

I jerk my head up and turn, as well, considering playing dumb, but thinking better of it. I know I haven't been myself. "Jack and I had a fight," I confess.

She looks concerned. "This bad?" She asks. "You guys never fight. You fought bad enough to need a night off?"

I hold up two fingers. "Two," I correct her. "I'm going home after work Tuesday. And, yeah, this bad. Yelling, hollering, trashing the living room," I leave out the part about Jack getting physical. I don't feel giving Hallie that information would be helpful.

"Jesus," she hugs a throw pillow to her stomach. "What about?"

I shrug. "This and that. I don't want to get into it. It doesn't matter, the why," I wave a hand dismissively. "He didn't want me to go, but I needed the space."

She scoffs. "Funny how every time you need space, a room in your apartment gets wrecked."

I narrow my eyes at her. "Don't put this on me, Hal," I warn her. "You're my sister. Whatever stupid crap I do, Jack is always in the wrong where you're concerned, capiche?"

She salutes. "Check! Jack - bad."

I drop my head to my hands and screw my eyes shut in frustration. "No, Hallie, you know he's not a bad guy," I sigh. "We're just having some trouble right now. It's normal. Especially after... y'know... everything?"

"Relax, Kaylie, I was kidding," she assures me. "I love Jack, you know that. Anything happens between you guys, I'll have to flip a coin to see what side I pick," she smirks. I shoot her a sarcastic glare. "Either way, stay as long as you want. Your room hasn't been touched."

"Thanks, Hal," I smile sincerely. "I think I'm going to go get ready for bed," I announce, pushing myself off the sofa.

Hallie looks at the clock, confusion on her face. "It's not even nine o'clock!"

I shrug. "Tired," I explain.

She nods. "Long day. Got it," she stands up and pulls me into a hug. "It'll be fine, Kaylie. You and Jack are lifers. Don't worry about it," she assures me.

I nod and pull back from her. "Night."

...

Tuesday arrives faster than I expect it to. Honestly, faster than I want it to. Hallie and I had a great visit. It's always fun playing with Charlie. Even Grady and I caught up and carried on a bit. But now my Tuesday shift has ended and I'm sitting on the bus, anxiously bouncing my knee, though the anticipation is not joyful as it had been the first time I'd made the bus ride home to meet Jack, it's nearly dreadful. Still, I made a promise, and Jack had kept his distance while I was at Hallie's. I owed it to him to keep my word and get home on time.

When I walked through the front doors of our apartment building, Jack isn't there waiting like usual. For the first time, I feel no fear, no panic, no confusion. I feel relief. I even release an uncertain breath I had been holding over which Jack I would be meeting at the end of the night, at the end of our time apart. I take my time climbing the stairs, relishing the peace and the solitude. When I reach the apartment, I find it empty. Again, though surprised, I flood with relief. I'd rather be met with no Jack than be met with the one I'd feared coming home to for the past two days. I drink a tea on my own, feed the cats, read on the sofa with the cats snuggled up on my lap and by my legs. Before I know it, it's time to go to bed. Jack still isn't home. I feel the slightest twinge of worry, but it isn't enough to keep me from putting my pajamas on and crawling under the covers.

I'm lying there maybe twenty minutes, on my side, back to the door, curled away from Jack's side of the bed, when I hear keys in the door. A moment later and Jack enters, cursing something to himself. I don't go out to greet him. I don't call out to let him know I'm in bed. To the contrary, I'm weighed down to the bed by a heavy dread which has filled me. How did it ever come to this? My breathing quickens of its own accord. With effort, I slow it. I need to appear asleep. He'll notice. He'll check.

Sure enough, a minute or two later and light hits my eyelids. I hear a deep, disappointed sigh from the doorway and a pang of guilt grips me briefly. It passes and is replaced by relief once more when the light goes off again and Jack disappears back down the hallway. I breathe a sigh of relief and turn back over to face the door sadly. What's even the point of this? I shake my head. I can't leave it like this. I throw the covers off myself and shimmy over to Jack's side of the bed, sliding until my feet hit the floor, then padding cautiously out of the room.

I find him in the kitchen, leaning on the island with his back to me, watching the microwave count down something he's heating up. "Hey," I say quietly.

He turns quickly, and for a moment I regret coming out at all, but then he smiles that Jack smile of his. "Hey, Sugar," his voice is quiet. "You have no idea how much I wanted to wake you, so I'm not sorry," he winks.

I offer a small smile and sit at his place. "Whatcha eatin'?" I try to keep it light, wanting to hang onto his jovial mood.

He turns back to the microwave. "Mac and cheese," he grimaces. "Hungry?" I shake my head. There is a long pause. "How's Hallie?" He asks tensely, carefully maneuvering around the sizeable elephant in the room.

"She's good," I nod. "Charlie made a book for you. It's in my bag."

"What a kid," he chuckles. He looks up at me and I can tell he wants to say something. I am about to tell him to just spit it out when the forgotten microwave chimes, making us both jump. Instead, I speak while he gets his food ready.

"I know it's been a rough few months for us," I begin, he pauses briefly in his movement before continuing, listening to me without looking up. "But it's 'us,' Jack. Plural. We've both been through a hell of a lot. We can't treat each other that way. Put undue blame on one another, make accusations and take it out one another like that. It's not fair."

He turns and sets his bowl on the island. His face is serious as he sits down across from me. He shovels a forkful of food into his mouth and looks up thoughtfully, considering my words. "Accusations?" He tests the word in his mouth as though he'd never heard it before. "Acc-u-sa-tions... Hmm... Hmm, hmm, hmm..." I tense at his sudden odd behaviour and jolt when his eyes meet mine. "I went to visit my mother yesterday," he reveals darkly through a second mouthful of food, raising his eyebrows with a smug expression on his face. "What'd the old bat have to say, Kayl?"

...

A/N - Hey everyone! That didn't go quite the way Kaylie had hoped, did it? I realize as I'm posting this chapter that I seem to be relying a little too heavily on the cliffhanger. I didn't notice I was doing it until now, and if it seemed cheap to anyone, I apologize. I'm going to try and steer away from them a bit in the future, unless they serve more of a purpose. I hope, just the same, that you're all still enjoying the story! Contrary to last weekend, this weekend it is absolutely pissing down rain here. Difficult coaxing the pooches out to do their business in this, let me tell ya! Hope it's dry and cozy wherever you all are! Thanks, as always, to everyone reading, reviewing, faving and following! You guys are the very awesomest of possums!

A special thanks goes to LivinJgrl123, Mushroomking98, angle4000, HoistTheColours, signifiedapollo, EliraLupa7, PLacIDwiCkedNEss, Maniacal Daydreamer, xxthethieflordxx, Comingsummers, YourTrueColors, and the Guests who've been commenting. A big hug to you all!


	21. I Watched You Change (Part 1)

_I watched you change_

_Into a fly_

_I looked away_

_You were on fire_

_I watched a change in you_

_It's like you never had wings_

_Now you feel so alive_

_I've watched you change_

**Deftones - Change (In The House Of Flies)**

I sit frozen, staring at Jack who holds my gaze with that smug expression of his. He throws his hands up in a shrug, leaning forward on his elbows. "Speechless? Hell-O-o! Earth to Kay-lie. Anybody in there?" He reaches across and is about to knock on my forehead but I duck out of his reach and slap his hand away with my own.

"Yes," I confess. "Yes, Jack, I tracked down your mother."

He sits back on his stool, pushing his upper body back with his arms extended, hands gripping the edge of he island, fingers tapping away. "Why?" His voice is even. His eyes are on mine, narrowed and looking hurt.

I shrug, defeated, leaning forward again, resting my forehead on my left hand. "I had to find out... Where this is all coming from. This... Lashing out at me for no reason. I had to find out if it happened before when..." I trail off, looking up at him. His expression is unmoved.

"No reason?" He tuts at me. "Maybe I don't like being lied to, Kaylie," he leans forward so his face is level with mine, and his voice is a low snarl.

Feeling bold, I lean forward even further, reaching across and grabbing his wrists in an effort to keep his hands on the island, my face inches from his. "If I had come home," I begin. "With you in that mood already, Jack," I start to justify myself. "And told you that I'd tracked your mother down behind your back and gone to visit her... What would you have done?"

He is still for a moment, chewing on his lip, licking his scars. When he speaks his voice is still calm. "Maybe if you had told me you were going beforehand-"

I cut him off. "As far as I knew, you and your mother lost touch years ago with no love lost. Long before I was ever in the picture. I guess I'm not the only one with issues with honesty," I spit, finally releasing his wrists and pushing myself away from the island, going into the living room. "And regardless of anything, Jack, that is no excuse to chase me around the fucking apartment!" I yell, exasperated.

To my surprise, he stays where he's sitting, still gripping the edge of the island with his hands, still tapping with his fingers. "I got up to hug you, Sugar. To reassure you. You were talking about leaving," his voice is still steady, but louder and higher than it had been.

"And how was I to know that? Huh? After everything else?" I throw my hands up. "After how you were when I got home. How can you expect me not to be scared?" He is silent but for the steady tapping of his fingers, his face is set in a sneer, but I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. "Stop the fucking tapping, Jack!" I shout angrily.

On command, the tapping stops, then he pushes himself to his feet, causing me to take a fast step backwards. He pauses. "Don't make another move," he barks. "I'm coming over there now," he starts to move toward me. I remain rooted to the spot, but my heart starts to pound. "We've had enough dis-tance between us late-ly," he moves into the living room.

When he reaches me, I am looking past him, staring at the floor. He touches gentle fingers to my jaw and turns my head. I move my eyes to his. They're soft, but still angry. Once I am looking at him, he moves his hand to my hair and pushes it back over my shoulder, his eyes following his hand. He rests his hand at my neck, brushing his thumb back and forth from my cheek to my ear. Unable to resist, I turn my face into the contact and his thumb caresses my lip. "Where were you tonight?" I whisper, eyes closed.

"Work ran late," his voice is regretful. "Listen," he turns my head again and my eyes shoot open to look into his. Both of his hands are on my face now, keeping me faced towards him and he lowers his face to look me dead in the eye. "We've got 'em, Sugar," he reveals. "We know where they're at. This'll all be over soon. Warren's gonna call in the next couple days and I'm gonna go deal with this. Then things can get back to the way they were."

I'm momentarily stunned by the news. It isn't what I was expecting. I smile a fleeting, bitter smile. "So, things will go back to normal just like that," I snap my fingers. "After you kill the men who cut your face? Let's just be plain about it, Jack," I pull myself from his grip and take a step backwards. "We'll just go back to how we were before all this after you become a murderer?" My voice is a harsh, angry whisper. "You weren't a murderer when I met you, Jack," my tone softens and I take a step towards him. "When I fell in love with you. That's not who you were."

He flicks his tongue along his scars and glares at me. "Who I was is irrelevant, Sugar, it's who I am that's the problem," he snarls. "_I_ broke down the bathroom door._ I _threw you into the wall. _I _threatened you with a knife," he reminds me harshly. "Not last-year's-Jack. _Me_. I did that. I need justice for this, I can't... I can't just sit on it anymore. It's not getting better. Maybe you can go through the rest of your life happily knowing the person who killed your family walks the streets, but I can't live like that where this is concerned," he spits.

I gasp. "That's low, Jack. You have no idea," my voice shakes. "It's killing me."

He leans in and cups my face in his hands again. "Then, you know, Sugar," his voice is gentle and coercing. "You understand. You said you understood," reluctantly, I nod, a sob escaping my lips. Jack pulls me into a tight hug and rocks back and forth, holding me in his arms and stroking my hair lovingly. "There. It's alright, babe. It'll be over soon."

...

I open my eyes the next morning to find Jack's side of the bed cold and empty. Not slept in. I sit up with a sigh and stretch my arms high above my head. The clock tells me it's 11:04, which means that by the time I got to bed, I slept for, maybe, five hours. I groan and toss my legs over the side of the bed, wiggling my toes in the carpet. I pick out my clothes for the day and go to grab a shower. My tired body rejoices at the hot water rushing over it, and I take my time. My mind, naturally, wanders to Jack. There is nothing else to discuss. We each know where the other stands. Jack is going to get his revenge, and I'm going to let him. I'm not going to get revenge, and he's going to let me. There's little else to say about it. I'm not going to plead anymore for him to let it go if it means his wrath turns towards me. Besides, he's right about one thing. These men are violent criminals. Who knows how many other people they've hurt or will hurt? I sigh and ignore the rational part of my mind that is screaming at me, '_if Jack gets his way and kills these people, he's little more than a violent criminal, himself!'_

I turn off the water. It's gone cold anyway. I step out of the shower and dress, apply my makeup, and toss my hair up into a messy bun. It'll do for waiting tables. I exit the bathroom and Jack twists in his desk chair to greet me with a half-smile. "Must've been a good one, eh, Sugar?" He asks. I frown at him in confusion. "The shower," he clarifies.

"Oh," I relax and smile at him. "Yeah, it was great," I head into the kitchen and start getting some breakfast together for myself. The silence in the apartment is slightly awkward, so I decide to break it. "Didn't come to bed last night?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual, but I can't hide the nervous edge in it.

Jack looks up from his desk again and taps his pen three times on his notebook before tossing it down and running his hands through his curls - which are starting to get greasy. "There's no way I could've slept," he shakes his head and stands up, walking slowly to the island and sitting down. "Too much on my mind," he eyes the eggs I've been frying.

"Hungry?" I grin. He nods. "I figured you would be. There's lots, don't worry."

He nods again. His eyes are on me, I can feel them, but I don't look up from the stove. His thumb is thumping gently on the island. "You okay?" He finally speaks.

I turn to face him and smile softly. "Getting there," I reply as I put some of the food on a plate for him. "You?" I ask as I turn to set the plate in front of him, offering him a fork with my other hand.

He takes my hand in his and squeezes it gently, taking the fork with him as he pulls away. "Will be."

...

Things aren't normal after that. They're too tense. But the routine being back in place makes the waiting game I'm playing while Jack is on his revenge mission much more bearable. There are cracks in the routine, though. A few times I come home and Jack isn't waiting. He arrives at the apartment much later in the night. Sometimes he comes to bed, sometimes he does not. Sometimes he stays in bed, others he leaves when we're done. No, things aren't normal, but they're enough for me, for now.

At the end of my shift a few Saturdays later, Jack shows up at the hotel as I am about to leave. He is standing in the doorway with flowers and a grin. He looks relaxed, content, like his old self. "For me?" I smile, reaching for the flowers.

"Who else?" His smile widens as he puts them in my hand. They're purple, and I recognize them immediately as the first flower he ever gave me. I smile and bring them to my nose as I walk out the door, his arm going over my shoulders. I close my eyes for a second as I breathe in their sweet scent. "What's the occasion?"

He looks down at me with mock-surprise on his face. "Two years, Sugar," he explains simply.

I grin as I do the math in my head. "Two years," I sigh. "Who would've thought?"

"Me," he replies simply, removing his arm from over my shoulders and, instead, gripping my free hand. "I always knew."

I pause and give him a small kiss. "So," I urge him. "What's the plan?"

He points ahead a small distance at our usual coffee house. "Tea," he says, as though it should have been obvious. We both smile at one another as we walk to the door. He opens it for me and motions for me to walk in. "Then home," he growls suggestively in my ear as I pass him.

It's as though we'd stepped into a time warp and all of the horror, grief and unpleasantness of the past few months is forgotten; at least for the time being. We talk lightly of the good times, reminisce about our previous visits to the same coffee house, joke about our first time there tormenting the poor man who works there. It feels good. Natural. As it should be. When we're through drinking our tea, I almost don't want to leave, for fear that stepping out that door will let all of the nastiness flood back in.

Sure enough, we're nearly at the bus stop when I hear the ringing of a cell phone. I furrow my brow. I didn't even realize Jack had a cell phone. He stops, shrugs and pulls it out of his pocket. "Yeah..." he barks down the line. "Now?" He eyes me as he talks. "You serious?" His whole body grows rigid. "Where Kaylie works. Send a car," his tone is dark and he pulls me along past the bus stop to the Beckford.

"Jack, who was that?" I try to pull my wrist out of his hand, but it is fruitless. "What's going on?"

We stop in front of the hotel and he looks at me with angry eyes, but he isn't mad at me. "Something I gotta do, Sugar," he says steadily, and though I think I know what he means, I don't ask him to clarify.

We stand waiting in silence. I don't look at him, but my hand is in his. I feel him absentmindedly stroking his thumb along my index finger. The car Jack had demanded arrives much more quickly than I had expected. I don't recognize the driver. We are going in the direction opposite of home. I feel my stomach drop. I thought they would take me home first. The car takes us to a familiar area. The warehouse is here somewhere. The one where Jack recuperated after he was attacked. We don't go to that warehouse. We go to one a little bit farther down. The car pulls up in front of it and stops. Warren and a couple other men are standing outside smoking.

Jack is staring at the closed door of the warehouse, chewing on his cheeks and bouncing his knee. "Take her home," he doesn't look at me as he exits the vehicle.

Before the driver starts the car up again, I open my door and get out. "Jack..." I call out, but don't follow him.

He turns on his heel. "Kaylie, get back in the car," he orders.

I shake my head. "No," despite the warm August air, I shiver. "You do this, I wait. I'm not going anywhere."

Jack sighs heavily and moves his gaze to Warren, who turns to another man I don't recognize and whispers something to him. The man comes to stand at my side. "I'll be out in a minute," Warren says before moving towards the warehouse. Jack casts his dark eyes on me one more time before following Warren.

True to his word, Warren is back outside after ten, maybe fifteen, minutes inside with Jack. The man next to me moves away and Warren walks just past me to lean back on the car. I follow suit. "I can take you home, doll," his old, blue eyes are sincere. "You don't have to be here for this."

I shake my head again. "I'm not leaving," I say through gritted teeth. "Thank you."

He nods and goes back to watching the front of the building. All is silent apart from the mumbled conversation happening between a few of the men present, and the scuffing of shoes in gravel as they move about. It wouldn't have mattered, even if everyone were uproarious, I still would have heard it. When you live in the Narrows, you come to recognize the sound of a gunshot. And that's what it was.

BANG!

I jolt upright and feel Warren's hand clamp down on my shoulder. He is still leaning coolly against the car. There is a moments silence, and then another shot rings out from within the warehouse.

BANG!

I make to run to the door, but Warren pulls me back against the side of the car. I wrench myself out of his grip. "Let me go!" I turn to face him and take a couple steps backwards, aware of the other men behind me, ready to stop me, as well.

Warren looks almost bored. "You shouldn't go in there, Kaylie," he informs me. "There's nothin' in there you wanna see."

"That could have been Jack getting shot," I keep taking steps backwards until I feel a strong, gentle hand on my back. It is the driver. I take a step sideways to avoid his touch.

Warren laughs. "I doubt it, hun, he's fine."

"You don't know that," again, I turn and walk towards the warehouse. A large, middle-aged man steps directly into my path, stopping me in my tracks.

"Let her go," Warren's voice is grim. "She's his problem. You're not here to babysit. You're cleanup crew," he spits. "Don't say I didn't warn ya, doll," I turn to face him one last time. "There are somethings in this world you can't unsee."

I should have heeded his warning. I don't know why I didn't. If it were genuine concern for Jack or curiosity. If I wanted to see the scumbags pay for what they did to my Jack, what they turned him into, or if I was punishing myself for not viewing my family after they died. Either way, I push open the door to the warehouse and walk inside.

The space is open, I see Jack at the other side turn at the sound of the door opening and closing behind me. "What the **fuck** are you doing in here, Kaylie?" His voice is loud and deadly. I don't move. "Answer me!" He comes towards me, his hand red with blood and holding a knife.

I look from the knife to his face. He stops a couple feet away from me. "Gunshots," I offer pathetically as explanation. "I heard gunshots."

"Yeeeah," he says slowly. "It didn't work."

I look behind him at the bodies on the floor. Two men. I recognize one of them as the smaller man who attacked us in the alley. The other one I don't know. "Looks like it worked to me," my voice is steadier than I feel. I'm stunned at the scene before me.

Jack studies my face, turning it with his cleaner hand so that I am looking at him instead of the mess. "I mean it didn't help, Sugar," his eyes light up, like he just had a brilliant idea, and he takes me by the hand. He starts leading me towards the carnage.

I try to plant my feet beneath me. "No, Jack," I plead. "I don't want to."

"Aw, c'mon," he tugs on my arm and I follow him, anyway. "It'll be good for ya. I'm almost done," his eyes are clouded over and his face is euphoric as he leads me to a table. On the table is a gun and an assortment of knives. "See that," he points with the knife in his hand to a big man propped up against a wall. I recognize him as the other man from the alley. Jack sees the recognition on my face. "That's right," I notice the man has several cuts on his swollen face and can only open one eye. He glares at Jack with that eye.

"You... you have no idea..." the man's words are pained and said through heavy breaths. "You were just... a score to settle..." I look to Jack in confusion. He is watching the man, anger the only emotion visible on his face, apart from just a hint of curiosity in his eye. "Wild Card was in... trouble after you botched that game, kid..." he continues. "You were my... payoff..."

Jack shoves me back into the table, which rattles with all of the implements on top of it, and moves to crouch in front of the man. "What. Are you. Talking. About?" With each word, he slices the knife through the air just in front of the man's eyes.

"Your boss... knew," that revelation almost knocked me to the floor. If it surprised Jack similarly, he didn't show it. "He okayed it. Coulda given me her..." his good eye turns darkly to me. "Woulda... thanked her for the blade in my shoulder -" his words turn to a scream then as Jack jams his knife into his shoulder and twists as he puts more pressure on it.

"Like that? Hmm?" Jack's voice is a demonic snarl. "You. Don't. Ever," his mouth is by the man's ear. "Look at that girl."

My hand is clamped over my mouth. To keep myself from screaming, crying, or vomiting. Maybe all three. I can't believe what I'm seeing. Jack is not simply getting revenge on this man, he's enjoying it. When he said that the gun didn't help, what he meant was that it brought him no satisfaction. The realization is crippling, and I crumble to the floor without a sound.

"Oh, and Gerry?" Jack stands over the man, who lifts his head to look up at him. "It's rude not to smile. Back," before I know what is happening, Jack puts a one inch slice in each corner of the man's mouth. His pleading and yelling makes it an easy task to accomplish, and the cuts even tear a bit more because of his exertion. Jack stands again as the man whimpers beneath him. With a smirk on his face, Jack strolls casually to the table, picking up a hammer that is there among the assortment of weapons. He then goes back to the man, crouches down, lifts his hand high above his head, and brings the hammer down violently on the man's genitals, crushing them between the hammer and the cement floor.

I forcefully squeeze my eyes closed as the man's screams rip through the warehouse, tearing his face into a smile as wide as Jack's. The sound goes on and on. Screaming. Wailing. Crying. Laughing. My eyes shoot open, and the man on the floor is either unconcious or dead. My eyes move from the still, bloody figure on the floor, to the figure standing over him, also bloody, but shaking with hysterical laughter. The hammer slides out of Jack's hand and lands on the floor. Jack leans forward, the knife reappearing out of nowhere into his hand, and slices quickly across the man's thick throat. Once again, the blood flows and once again, there are screams. Mine.

...

A/N - I thought I would be nice and post a chapter mid week as a huge THANK YOU to you all for your awesome response, kind words, and support of this story. A lot of stuff happening in this one. Bad stuff. There's really no going back now, is there? Hope you're all still enjoying the story. Thanks to all reading, reviewing, faving and following! My socks have been thoroughly rocked by your response :-) Any fans of The Joker Blogs out there? I just watched the last episode of Further Evidence. Amazing, right? See you all next week!


	22. I Watched You Change (Part 2)

_I took you home_

_Set you on the glass_

_I pulled off your wings_

_Then I laughed_

_I watched a change in you_

_It's like you never had wings_

_Now you feel so alive_

_I've watched you change_

**Deftones - Change (In the House Of Flies)**

Everything is quiet. And dark. Soft. There are slick fingers in my hair and whispered shushes in my ear. I smell copper. And Jack. I start to push away when I hear the door to the warehouse open and close. Footsteps approach, stopping nearby. I can't see where. I still have my face buried in Jack's neck. "She gonna be a problem?" Warren's voice.

Jack stands, pulling me with him. "Why did you let her in here?" His voice is angry and accusing. I turn my head so I can see Warren.

He shrugs. "Why didn't you send her out? Or home?" He counters. "Will she be a problem?"

"Is this a joke?" Jack barks. "Everything she's already seen, everything she knows, and you think she'll be a problem? No. She won't be a problem."

"Can't be too sure," he comes closer and gestures to the door. "Come on, let me give you a ride home. The boys can clean this mess up," he finally takes a look around. "Jesus Christ, Jack. Point taken," he chuckles, as though Jack had merely painted vulgar graffiti on the wall.

We follow him out of the warehouse. I cling to Jack, fearing I might not be able to walk otherwise. He helps me into the back of Warren's car and slides in after me. I tangle my fingers into his shirt and look out the window. He kisses my shoulder. The ride back to the apartment is spent mostly in silence, except for a short exchange between Warren and Jack, in which I suppose Warren was trying to get some information.

"Did you at least get an apology outta the fat bastard?" Warren chuckles awkwardly.

I look at Jack, who turns suspicious eyes to Warren. "Barely said a word," Jack lies. "Threats, mostly. Couple of fucked up things about Kaylie. Then he died," his voice is dark.

Warren nods. "Good show, Jackie-Boy," he praises. "Well done."

When we get back to the apartment, Jack leads me into the bathroom. "Come on, Sugar," he coaxes gently. "Gotta get you out of these clothes and into the shower," I look down at myself and, sure enough, my cream-coloured shirt has assorted red stains. My breath quickens as I tug at the shirt. "Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey," Jack settles my hands in his. "Easy, Sugar, I got it," he pulls the shirt over my head and then unbuttons my black dress pants, sliding them down my legs. He taps one leg at a time, and I step out of the pants, he pulls off my socks as I do so.

He strips himself of his clothes, as well, and throws them on the pile with mine, finishing with both of our undergarments, which are the only unstained pieces of clothing in a pile tied together by red. Jack starts the shower, waiting with his hand under the stream for it to warm up. I watch his hand. The blood which has dried onto it begins to drip away onto the floor of the tub, disappearing down the drain. When the water is warm enough, I feel Jack's other hand on my shoulder, urging me into the shower. I oblige. He follows me in, standing behind me, allowing me to stand in the stream. I close my eyes and tilt my face to the water. It is warm. Soothing. I feel Jack wrap his arms around me from behind. I hug his arms to myself, gripping his hands. His chin comes to rest on my shoulder and I turn my face towards his.

He spins me around to face him and lowers his face to mine. We kiss slowly and deeply. He lifts me and turns with me so my back is against the wall. I wrap my legs around him and as he settles his weight onto me, he enters me with an electric thrust. I gasp as he works himself in and out of me again and again. His face is next to mine, and he places the occasional kiss by my ear. His thrusts start coming more quickly, I cling desperately to him and try my best to meet each one, despite the slick wall behind me being my only leverage. It comes to a loud, gasping end for the both of us, and it's glorious just to feel after the numbness I experienced that night.

He pulls away from me, keeping hold of one of my arms to make sure I can stand. When he is sure I can, he lets go. I stay leaning against the wall catching my breath and he begins to wash me. He does the job agonizingly slowly, starting with my hair. It almost feels as though he takes the time to wash each strand individually. He gently works his fingers through with the conditioner before rinsing it out. He works his way down my neck and shoulders with my shower gel, pulling me in for another kiss as he washes my back. It is reminiscent of the night at the other warehouse, when I washed him.

He lets me lean back into the wall and brings his hands around to my front. He tenderly washes my breasts and stomach, tracing circles in the suds as he works his way down to my sex. Softly, he glides his hand there and my eyes flutter closed. He repeats the motion and I open them. His eyes are smirking at me. I flush and lean forward into him, my face in his neck. His other hand wraps around my back to hold me to him. He continues to stroke between my legs, which begin to shake. There is a rumble of a laugh deep in his throat, which causes me to inhale a sharp, dry sob. I continue to squirm on his hand as I feel the familiar pressure building up deep within me. This time, it ends quietly, as I breathe heavily into his neck. It occurs to me too late that he'd just made me come with the hand which, just over an hour earlier, had tortured and killed a man, and I collapse fully into him, unable to keep silent tears from flowing.

He turns me towards the stream once again so I can rinse off. Again, I turn my face into the water. I stay like that until the tears stop, then step out of the tub. I pull a towel off the rack and wrap it around myself, sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet, waiting for Jack to finish cleaning himself and not wanting to step past the contaminated pile of clothing. A few moments later, he emerges and moves past me. Before he can fully pass, my hand darts out to grab his, pulling it to my forehead and pushing my face into the back of it, craving the contact. He pauses and opens his hand, turning it so my forehead is in his palm, and splaying the rest of his fingers down my face.

"Just grabbing a towel, Sugar," his voice is low and gentle, like a Summer thunderstorm, and I take brief comfort in it. I nod and let him go to get a towel. He dries off quickly before wrapping the towel around his waist. "Listen, Kaylie," he begins. "Look at me, Sugar," I listen. "I have to go get a bag for these," he points to the clothes. I don't follow his finger. "I'll be right back, okay?" I turn my head away. "Okay, Sugar? You gotta tell me," I nod. "Alright. I won't be a minute."

I don't watch him go. I fidget with my hands, leaning forward with my elbows rested on my knees, and watch the floor. I hear him come back into the bathroom a few seconds later with a rustling garbage bag and look up. He is unceremoniously throwing our clothes into the bag. Then he takes the damp towel off his waist and wipes down the floor with it before tossing it into the bag, as well. He lifts the bag in one hand and extends the other to me. I take it and allow him to pull me to my feet. I trail behind him as he leaves the bathroom, and I'm careful to take a wide step over the spot where our clothes had been lying.

He lets go of my hand when we're in the hallway and I stand there dumbly while he ties off the bag and sets it by the door. He comes to stand in front of me again and takes my face in both of his hands. "I'm gonna take that tomorrow, Sugar, and get rid of it, hmm? You've got nothing to worry about," I nod absently and turn towards the bedroom. Jack follows behind me with a gentle hand on my shoulder. I drop my towel to the floor and crawl, naked, wet and exhausted, into bed. Jack gets in behind me and pulls me around to face him. I fall into a restless sleep, my head on his chest, my ear listening to the heartbeat of a killer. It sounds no different than it had before. I am grateful.

...

I wake up the next day after Jack gently shakes me out of slumber. I open my eyes and he is crouched down in front of me looking concerned. "I've gotta go, Sugar," he announces. "Look after that stuff. I just wanted to let you know. Make sure you're..." He trails off.

"I'm okay," my voice is hoarse, probably from all the screaming the night before. I sit up and look sadly at Jack.

"I am, too," he answers the unasked question and stands up, touching my hair. I push my head into his hand and he chuckles. "I really have to go, Sugar. I've got a car waiting downstairs. Listen, I'll be back in an hour," he assures me. "I'll bring home lunch."

I nod. With his hand still on my head, he leans down and presses a firm kiss to my lips, giving a strand of hair a gentle tug before he turns to leave. "You promise you'll be back?" I call out before he's out of the room.

He turns to face me and crouches down in front of me once more, taking my face in both of his hands, eyes piercing mine. "I'll never leave you, Kaylie. I'll always come back," he promises. He presses another kiss to my forehead and he's out the door.

I pause in the bathroom door on my way to the toilet, staring at the inconspicuous bit of floor our bloody clothes had been piled on. I roll my eyes. I need to get over it. I step into the room, and with another step forward, I'm standing in the feared spot. It feels no different than it ever had, except I can feel it all the way up my legs. I hurry to the toilet and sit down, eying the spot suspiciously as I use the bathroom. In my mind, I can see the border. I know logically that there's nothing there, that the spot isn't there, but I can still see it. I reach above myself and pull a towel down. I toss it over the offending spot and the anxiety leaves me. I breathe a sigh of relief as I stand, pull my shorts up and leave the bathroom, walking over the towel without problem.

I make my way into the kitchen to make a cup of tea and notice my shoes from last night are gone. So is the mat that's usually in our entryway. I shake my head in disbelief. I turn the kettle on and prepare my tea. When the kettle boils I finish making the tea and sit down at the island with a book.

My tea is gone and a good portion of the book read when I hear Jack at the door. I flip the open book over, so I don't lose the page, and look up just as he walks in. "Hey, Sugar," he greets with a smile, holding a paper bag up. "I brought subs. Ham and cheese for you, unless you want roast beef."

I wrinkle my nose. "Ham and cheese, please."

He laughs and sits down at his spot, putting a sub and a can of cola in front of each of us. "You rhymed," he starts to unwrap his sandwich. I watch him for a moment. He is about to take a bite of his sub when he notices. "What's wrong?"

"We need a new floor," I blurt. He looks down in confusion. "In the bathroom. Where the... It's contaminated. We need a new one,"

His eyes widen at me and he reaches across the island to cover my hand with his. "Oh, Sugar," he starts to laugh. "That floor's fine. A good scrub down, and no one'll ever know the difference," he laughs again. "Besides, no one's ever gonna come lookin', there'll never be a reason to."

I shake my head, tears springing to my eyes. "No, Jack, you're wrong. I know the difference," I clutch my hands to my chest. "It's not... funny. I need it gone."

His face grows serious and he stands, coming around the counter to pull me into a hug. I don't stand, but I wrap one arm around his back and rub my face in the stomach of his shirt, breathing him in. "You need it gone, it's gone, Sugar. I'll call tomorrow," I nod against him. "Hey," he pushes me back and lifts my chin with his hand. "You sure you're okay?"

I nod and lean back into him. "Just get rid of the floor," I mumble into his clothes.

...

Jack has the floor replaced the next day, just like he said he would. He also has the door replaced from where he broke it before. The bathroom feels like nothing bad ever happened there. I test the floor a few times before I'm convinced that the feeling is gone, but it is. With no work commitments, and with Jack's revenge mission finally behind him, we are able to spend our Monday off together. We spend a great deal of it fucking. Not making love. Not having sex. Just fucking for the sake of it. All over the apartment. On the new bathroom floor. We pass hours just using each other for pleasure. It is wonderful. But there is one thing it isn't. One obvious, glaring, and blatant thing that it clearly is not. It is not normal. It is not me and Jack. Not Sugar and Wild Card. It is new, and that is scary.

Jack's promise, which I knew could never happen, was that when he had brought his justice to the men who harmed him, things could go back to the way they were. The fact that less than two days later, we aren't even trying for some semblance of normality frightens me. If so soon it is so easy to slip into something else, how long will it be before we slip into something worse? Before he slips into something worse? Or should this just be looked upon as the glorious makeup sex of a several-month-long fight? Either way, it isn't normal.

We're about to go for round four or five in the kitchen while supper cooks, when my desire to do so suddenly leaves me. "Jack, wait," I use my hands to stop his from undoing his belt. "I can't."

He laughs. "Uh, Sugar, I think you've proven more than once today that, indeed, you can."

I offer him a small laugh. "That's not what I mean, Jack. I mean I can't again. Not right now."

He leans into me burying his face in my hair and murmuring into my ear. "I can get you in the mood, Sugar, you know that," he licks along my earlobe and I twist away from him.

"For God's sake, Jack, no," I hold a hand up between us and back into the corner where the stove meets the countertop. "I said stop, and I meant it."

Frustrated, he throws his hands up and turns away from me, stalking out of the kitchen and rounding the island. He sits down at his spot and sets his burning eyes on me. "Why the sudden change, hmm? Two minutes ago it was _you _who had _your _hands down _my_ pants. What happened?"

I shrug and turn to stir the pasta sauce I have simmering on the stove. "I realized I couldn't cook from the floor of the kitchen. I need to eat, Jack," I laugh weakly.

He doesn't buy it. "No, no, it's something else," he digs. "Something changed just then, I saw it."

I turn to him once again. "What are we doing?" I nearly shout. "A year ago, we were so perfect, Jack," I shake my head sadly. "A few weeks ago, we were fighting so violently it left marks. Then Saturday you kill three people, and now we can't keep our hands off of each other? What is that?"

He raises his hands in a shrug. "A pleasant detour on the way back to perfection?" He jokes with a laugh. I roll my eyes and turn back around. "Aw, Sugar, I'm kidding. It's... fun. It's good. We're getting back in touch with one another. It's important," he nods.

I glance at him over my shoulder and smirk. "Well, no more getting in touch until after we've both had some sustenance," Jack winks and salutes. I turn my attention back to preparing the meal. I already knew the truth. The real answer. There is no getting back to perfection. True perfection never ends. Perfection never has to. What I saw as perfection between me and Jack was really just a pleasant detour on the way to destruction. The truth is, there is no happy ending. Ever. No story actually ends where the happy-ending stories do. No real story. If, in telling you my story, I had chosen to end it after Jack's rooftop proposal, there would have been a happy ending, but it would have been a lie. My story with Jack went on, and the ending was tragic.

...

A/N - So, the last chapter was about the true start of Jack's undoing, and this chapter focuses more so on Kaylie's. She has experienced a traumatic event, and her response to it is leaning more towards the passive. She has to come apart a bit if she's going to stay with him at all. It wouldn't make sense if the sane, stable woman we've all come to know stayed with the cracking, violent man Jack is becoming. They each have their breaking point, and we're seeing them. Apologies that this chapter is so much shorter than the last few, but I wanted it to be fairly contained. Also, apologies to anyone who found the last chapter to be too much of a cliffie. When I read it, it didn't feel like too much was hanging on the edge there, but I can see it now that I look back. No cliffies here! Many thanks to all still reading, reviewing, faving and following. You're among the coolest cats in a feline kingdom.


	23. You've Changed

_Not that I'm so different_

_Not that I don't see_

_The dying light of what we used to be_

_But how could I forgive you?_

_You've changed_

_And I'm a liar by your side_

_I'm about to lose my mind_

**Evanescence - The Change**

The best way I can explain how what happened to Jack affected me is to liken it to a loved one with a terminal illness. You may have months, even years, to prepare for the inevitable. You know that your loved one is going to die, even if you try to convince yourself it won't really happen. But it does happen. And, when it happens, it is still a shock. It still feels unreal and horrible. Just the same, I had known for months what Jack was intending to do. I felt powerless to stop it, try as I may; bargain as I may. Even so, when it finally happened, it stunned me. And just like with a terminal illness, when you're there to see the end play out, it's even worse. I didn't know at the time how appropriate the comparison to death was.

Jack was different afterwards, not that it should have been surprising. It was subtle at first, but I could see it. I could see the changes rippling through him every day. As time went on, the changes became more glaring. He never mentioned what Gerry had said about Warren before he died. I knew it must have been on his mind. It was on mine. But, I never mentioned it, either. He started going in to work less frequently, but was in constant contact with Warren about something or other. Also, the fact that he wasn't working as much did not mean he was home more often. He was in and out of the apartment far more frequently. He was also sleeping even less. He drank so much coffee, he seemed alive with jitters almost 24/7. The apartment would often be clouded with cigarette smoke when I would wake up, though he didn't seem to smoke much when I was around, for which I was grateful. He was always busy with something. I became more curious as to what Jack was scribbling in that notebook of his when he started being more guarded about it. He'd cover it over when I approached him while he was writing in it. When he wasn't writing in it, he kept it locked in the top drawer of his desk. I started having to remind him to do things like shower and brush his teeth. Not all of the time, but often enough. He seemed to only eat when I made something or asked him to go pick something up. His mind was totally focused on something, and everything else seemed to fall at a distant second.

To be truthful, it wouldn't be fair to point out all of the changes in Jack without accepting the fact that there were also many changes going on with me. As Jack started behaving differently, I grew less weary of his actions. Despite my longing and curiosity, I stopped asking him where he went when he would arrive home. There was little point to it, anyway, I rarely got a real answer. I took to drinking more often, typically following my evening tea with a drink of whiskey before bed. I didn't get drunk. That wasn't the point of it. It made sleeping easier, and I wanted to block out the world when I closed my eyes. Something Jack and I had in common was our lack of appetite. I still ate, because I knew logically that I had to, but I wasn't eating as much, and I could see the results of it as my clothes began fitting a bit more loosely on my body. I didn't care as much about the state of the apartment, either. Dishes piled up higher before I would get to washing them, dirty clothes were discarded in a pile on the floor instead of the hamper, sweeping the floors didn't usually happen unless I saw a tumbleweed of cat hair roll by and was feeling ambitious. My mind was filled with constant worries and wonders about Jack, and everything else seemed to fall at a distant second.

Our relationship, of course, suffered in the wake of our changes. Though our closeness remained, smiles wouldn't light up our faces when our eyes met, like they used to. Our conversations were still filled with teasing and wisecracks, but less loving and lighthearted. Our sex life, in some ways, was better than it had been. We both sought contact and pleasure with one another. In other ways, it was worse, given it's tendancy towards the rougher side of things. We hadn't really fought since it happened. Occasionally I would see anger flare up in Jack's eyes while on the phone, and I would remember that I never wanted to see that look cast upon me again.

Despite all of that, he and I are able to maintain some semblance of our old routine. I go to work and come home. We go out from time to time. Under no circumstances do we talk about what happened. On a Sunday in September we go to dinner and a movie. It's close to the anniversary of our first real date. It's a beautiful, clear night in Gotham, with just enough of Summer still lingering in the air. We're walking home hand in hand when something all too familiar happens.

"Li'l late to be ou' wanderin' the streets, innit?" A drunken voice slurs behind us. We both spin around. Upon closer inspection, it looks like the same bum who pulled a knife on us while we made the same walk home two years ago. The thought had just crossed my mind when I noticed the light reflect on something silver in his hand at his side. I hugged myself behind Jack. "Aw, whassamatter, sexy? Don' wanna come ou' an' play?"

Jack lunged at him as soon as the words left his mouth, but he hadn't noticed the knife. The drunk slips the blade somewhere into Jack's ribs and kicks him back, pulling the knife out as he does so. He lands on the other side of where the drunk is standing, clutching his side, groaning in pain. The terrifying man turns towards me with a perverse glint in his eyes, which are roaming up and down my body as he starts to advance on me. Reflexively, I start to walk backwards away from him, holding a hand out in front of me in defense. The man flies at me with a growl. I land on my back, my head snapping back painfully onto the sidewalk. He puts his knife - slick with Jack's blood - to my throat and sneers hideously. He reaches down between us and I can feel the material of my skirt sliding up my legs. I'm sure I'm going to be sick. I frantically start trying to twist out from under him, stopping my struggles almost instantly when he puts more pressure on the blade to my throat.

I'm breathing heavily, tears streaming from my eyes and down the sides of my face. I fear the worst I'm sure is going to happen when, suddenly, the eyes of the man on top of me widen and his face contorts in fear and anger. He whirls around, throwing his knife-weilding hand out before him as he goes. I see Jack behind him, face a mask of anger. As soon as the drunk's weight is off of me enough that I can move, I push myself backwards, then crawl away and lean back against a telephone pole, tugging my skirt back down frantically and trying to catch my breath.

I watch the rest of the scene as it unfolds before me like something from a horror movie. The drunk man's knife again connects with Jack, this time making a gruesome slice down his right forearm, which Jack had just used to block an attempted jab. Jack grabs the knife from him with that hand, closing it and sliding it into his pocket.

"Haven't we, uh, done this be-fore?" He taunts, fixing the drunk with a menacing glare. In his other hand, he holds a knife of his own, which I didn't know he was carrying. I can now see a darkening spot on the back of the drunk man's tan coat. That's why he got off of me. Jack had stabbed him. When Jack lashes his arm out towards the man this time, it hits hard in the man's stomach, doubling him over in agony over Jack's arm. I see Jack jerk his arm a couple of times, and realize he is stabbing the man repeatedly, before tossing him to the ground.

He grabs the man roughly by the hood of his coat and drags him along the sidewalk to where Jack had landed when he fell. I see an angry streak of red stain the sidewalk. All at once, my senses flood back to me and I jump to my feet. I run to Jack, the scene before me unbelievable to my mind. "Jack, what did you do?" I gape. I run to the man bleeding on the ground. "What can I do?" I look to Jack hopelessly. The man garbles something unintelligable and tries to put his hand to his bleeding stomach, but he isn't strong enough to raise his arm.

Jack shrugs. "There's nothing you can do, Kayl," he explains simply. His tone not betraying the fact that he'd just killed a man in front of me for the second time. "He's gonna die. He deserves to. As much as anyone does, to be fair. What do you care anyway? After what he tried to do to you?"

I stand and turn to Jack. I stomp towards him and shove him hard on the chest. "Why?" I shout. "Why would you do that? We could have run!"

"Why?" He mimicked. "'Why' doesn't matter. Take the 'why' out of the equation. Shorten the distance between 'think' and 'do' until they're one action. Live immediately. Things are much less complicated when you just do things. You told me that, Sugar. Things just happen. Take a couple pages outta your own book, you might learn a thing or two."

A sudden headache rips through my head and I grab it with my hands. "Jack, I..." feeling woozy, I kneel down once again. Jack watches, but offers no help. "I can't look at you. I can't... Who are you?" I scream suddenly.

Jack sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to me, lowering himself to look in my eyes. "I'm the same man I've always been. Finally."

I shove him again, taking him momentarily off balance. He rights himself, laughing, walks casually over to the dying man and starts rifling through his pockets. He pulls out a package of cigarettes and brings it to his lips. He continues to fish through the man's coat when he finds an old, red deck of cards. He opens the package. Both ends are faced inward. He flips one of the end cards around and smirks, looking at it for a moment before tossing it onto the man and pocketing the rest of the deck, along with the cigarette he had in his mouth. He comes back and stands directly in front of me, extending his hand. "Come on, let's get back to the apartment, Sugar. I gotta call Doc."

"Don't call me that right now," I sneer, but accept his hand anyway. I relax against him and we start walking back towards the apartment. I cast a final glance over my shoulder at the man now motionless on the ground, my eye stopping on a stained card face up on his chest. The Wild Card. The Joker.

...

With my elbow resting on the table and my chin resting in my hand, I lean forward in my chair, absentmindedly twirling Jack's hair between the fingers of my other hand. He's laid out on his back on top of the dining room table while Doc works on tending his wound. A fleshwound, apparently the drunk's knife hadn't penetrated Jack's ribs. Jack is relaying the story to Doc, more joyfully than he should be, and is too animated in his chatter for Doc to be able to work steadily. He has to keep jerking his hands away from Jack as he practically bounces off the table excitedly at some part of the tale or other. But, I realize, it isn't a tale. It happened, less than an hour ago.

"'Ey, buddy, ya think you can lie still for another minute?" Doc sighs for the fifth or sixth time since he started working on Jack.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry," Jack mumbles, having seemingly forgotten that Doc had been in the process of stitching him up.

Doc leans in and gets back to work, shaking his head. "Wound like this, you should be in agony, kid. Your ribs should be killin' ya," he reveals. "You on something?"

I raise an eyebrow to Jack, who frowns with his. "No... Chalk it up to an adrenaline rush, I guess."

Doc nods, impressed. "Hell of a rush, there, Jackie," he chuckles dryly, continuing his work.

I jerk my head towards the living room window across the apartment as I hear the sound of sirens blaring past. "Guess somebody found him," I announce, my tone indifferent.

Jack suddenly sits up and waves Doc's hands away from his abdomen just as he is about to finish stitching him up. He swings his legs over the side of the table and hops off, sauntering over to the window. Doc and I exchange a look. He shrugs and I sigh, getting up to follow Jack. I hear Doc a few steps behind me. When I reach Jack, I rest both of my palms on his warm back and lean forward to look around his left arm, pressing my lips to his tricep. The angle of our window allows us to see down the street quite a ways, but we can't quite see the spot where the man's body lays. We can see two police cars parked just before the scene. An ambulance had also whirred past, but we can't see where it's stopped.

Suddenly conscious of the fact that we're standing in front of the window, I reach one arm around Jack and place my hand lightly over his stitched-up wound. He doesn't flinch. "Jack?" I speak cautiously. He turns his head to the side and looks down at me with his left eye. "Doc still needs to look at your arm," I touch his upper right arm, avoiding the forearm which has Jack's white wifebeater wrapped crudely around it.

He regards me curiously for a moment, like he hadn't known I was standing behind him, before nodding and turning around, strolling past Doc and I to hop back up on the dining table. He remains in a seated position, and gestures grandly to the chair at his right. "Ready when you are, Doc."

Doc crosses the apartment and sits back down next to Jack, his eyes flicking cautiously between his face and injured arm as he unwraps the shirt and tosses it aside. I sit in the chair next to Doc, leaning forward and resting my left arm across my knees. I place my right elbow in the upturned palm of my left hand and rest my face in my right hand, fidgeting with my earring distractedly. I make a 'psst' noise at Samson, who has slunk over to investigate the fallen makeshift bandage, and he scurries away.

I've come to a conclusion in my mind that I can neither voice nor act upon at that moment. I need to leave. I should have gone a long time ago. But I've let it reach a point now where it has to be done so carefully. Jack is dangerous. He was a danger to me before he ever killed anybody. Like it or not, the night he truly changed was the night they tore his face open. I've never had my Jack back after that. Not really. I am ripped from my thoughts by Doc's voice.

"Shouldn't scar too bad," he cleans up the cut and dresses it with proper bandages. It doesn't require stitches. He smiles thinly, uncomfortable since witnessing Jack's bizarre behaviour. Jack shrugs. What difference does another scar make to him at this point? "If it's all the same to you guys, I'm gonna hang out here 'til the heat dies down outside. I don't have much of a rapport with the cops."

"That's fine, Doc," I nod understandingly. "Want something to eat?"

He shakes his head. "Could use a drink, though," he raises his eyebrows at me pointedly, and I nod in agreement.

I look to Jack, who has wandered back over to the window, tugging a grey t-shirt over his head. "Jack?" He spins to face us. "Drink?" I hold up the whiskey bottle. He shakes his head. "Coffee?" I sigh. He nods, turning his attention back to the window. This time, I shake my head.

I pour a generous shot of whiskey for myself and Doc after taking Jack his coffee. He's leaning against his desk, watching the commotion outside. From our window, we can see that a couple more cop cars have pulled up, and many of our neighbours are littering the streets nosily. A twitchy grin is tugging at the corners of Jack's lips. Doc and I sit at the island. Me in my usual spot, Doc on the stool next to Jack's.

"He usually like this, or...?" Doc's tone is hushed. I nod. "Jesus," he swipes his hand over his stubble and downs his drink, tapping his glass on the island for another. "Before...?" He asks, drawing an exaggerated smile on his face with his finger. I shake my head, downing my whiskey and pouring us each a second. He downs his without hesitation and I pour him a third. "Everythin' alright?" I nod side to side and tilt my right hand side to side in front of me. "Jack," his voice booms across the apartment. Jack's head jolts towards us in irritation. "Have a drink with us, kid!"

"I don'**t**. Wan**t**. A drin**k**." He snarls lowly, turning back to the window.

Doc laughs nervously, holding up a defensive hand, and turns back towards me. "Alright, alright, Jesus."

"He's better now," I whisper, eyes fixed on my glass, which I then tip to my lips and down the contents of. "Before he got them... the men... He was worse," I pour us each another drink, the contents of the bottle getting low.

"Whaddaya mean, 'worse'?" He whispers, nervously.

I bring my eyes to his. "Scary," I say honestly. "He would pick a fight with me over anything. He'd look for things, even," I nod.

"He hit ya?" He asks boldly.

I pull back and shake my head. "Close," I raise my eyebrows. "Couple times, but he never... He wouldn't," I say, though I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince. We both empty our glasses once again, and I empty the bottle equally into both glasses. "He's better now."

Doc nods, eyebrows knit together in concern, unconvinced. "If better means killing random bums," he shrugs sarcastically.

I shake my head. "It wasn't random, it was-" I stop abruptly as Jack turns and walks slowly towards the kitchen, empty coffee mug dangling from his curled left fingers.

"You guys, uh, wouldn't be talking about... little ol' me, would ya?" He smirks knowingly.

I force a smile back at him. "Just worried about you, Wild Card," I say truthfully.

He comes around the island and bends down, cupping the side of my head with his right hand and pulling the other side to his lips. "I'm fine, Sugar," he promises. "Just wound up," he stands and drops the coffee mug loudly by the coffee maker, pouring himself a second cup.

Doc laughs dryly. "You as wound as you say you are, ya think coffee's the right choice?"

Jack slaps the side of his head jokingly as he walks back around the island, settling into his spot. "You, uh, ya made quick work of that bottle, Sugar," he angles his head down and raises his eyebrows at me.

"I had help," I smirk, indicating Doc with my hand. I'm beginning to feel the waves of intoxication hit me.

"Couple of boozers houndin' me about coffee," he teases, shaking his head and taking a long drink frim his mug.

"I said nothing," I hold my hands up with a laugh. "Has the circus lef'town yet?" I nod towards the window, my words slurring slightly.

Jack shakes his head. "Boys in Blue are still lingering. Talking to the neighbours."

"Anything we should be concerned about?" Doc asks.

Jack shakes his head. "No one saw anything," he says arrogantly. "Around here, if ya hear a scuffle outside, it isn't worth the walk to the window. There was no one around. He was an aggressive drunk," he growls. "No one around here gives a damn that he's dead," he takes another sip of coffee and smirks at me over his mug. "Sugar here sure isn't gonna say anything, are ya, Sugar?" I shake my head, surprised at the question.

"Just the same," Doc grasps Jack's shoulder as he stands up. "This'll be between you and me," nods, patting the shoulder twice. "Warren wouldn't benefit from knowin' you been out killin' bums," he chuckles.

Jack holds up a finger. "One bum," he mouths with a smirk.

Doc laughs. "Where's the pisser?" He walks towards the hallway. "I always forget."

"The one with the toilet," Jack jabs his thumb towards the hallway and I smirk at him. Doc staggers down the hall chuckling, closing the door behind him when he finds the bathroom. "Might wanna put a pillow on the sofa for twinkle-toes," he rolls his eyes, standing to go back to the window.

I force a quiet laugh and collect the glasses we'd been drinking from and set them in the sink, turning to the hallway afterwards. I pull a pillow and blanket out of the linen closet and toss them onto the sofa in the computer room. "It's in the spare room," I call down the hallway on my way to our bedroom. "I'm crashing," I lie.

There is a pause. "You good, Kayl?" Jack shouts back.

I nod, though he can't see me. "Just beat," I reply, which is only half a lie. "Night."

"Night, Sugar," he calls back to me.

He'll be distracted at that window as long as there's something to see. Time to start packing.

...

A/N - Sorry for the lack of updates! Things have been crazy for me. I can't say how often I will be able to update, but I am going to try for at least once a month. I will not leave the story hanging, I promise. Thanks so much to everyone reading, reviewing, faving and following. You guys are cooler than bow-ties.

A special thanks to HoistTheColours for your detailed reviews and CC! I don't always notice those sorts of things until they're pointed out, particularly the inconsistency with their moods. I hadn't taken notice of that at all until you mentioned it, and you're right. I will certainly try to be more mindful of that in the future, and may go back and change a few things one of these days when I have some time to. As far as Kaylie's passive response to Jack's insisting to kill his attackers, I think part of it is not thinking he really would have, part of it is that she's still broken from all she's been through with her family, and part of it is that with the way it was thrust on them the night it happened, she was so stunned that bargaining didn't really occur to her. Perhaps I will read it through again and make certain things a bit more clear there, as well, and add a bit more fight into her where it's concerned. It really means a lot to me that you take such time and care in bringing these things to light. I'll make sure it isn't a waste of your time! Thanks, again!


	24. We're Changing Our Ways

_When routine bites hard and ambitions are low_

_And resentment rides high but emotions won't grow_

_And we're changing our ways, taking different roads_

_Then love, love will tear us apart again_

**Hawksley Workman - Love Will Tear Us Apart**

Panic sets in as soon as I shut the bedroom door behind me. The realization of what I am about to do making my heart pound and mind race. I pace for a moment in the middle of the room, trying to slow my thoughts and get done what needs to be done. Suddenly, I stop and walk to the window, glancing down the sidewalk as far as I can, and see that there are still police cars along the road. As long as they're out there, I have time. I probably have time, anyway, given Jack's sleep patterns, but as long as I remember to check the window, I know he won't be walking in on me anytime soon.

Nodding, I steel myself, and march purposefully to the closet, opening it quietly and getting my medium-sized suitcase from the back. I set it on the bed and flip it open. I nod to myself again, convincing myself that I'm really going to do this, before I start going from drawer to drawer, taking the essentials from each and putting them neatly in the case. As I'm moving a few sweaters from a drawer to my suitcase, I notice a flash of purple fall to the floor from somewhere within them. I pull my eyebrows together and pile the sweaters on top of the other clothes before crouching down.

There on the floor is a small, dried sprig of purple and green. It takes me a moment to realize what it is. Carefully, I pick it up off the floor and bring it close to my face to inspect it. It's not just a purple flower, it's _the _purple flower. The one Jack gave to me two years ago on our first date, put at the bottom of a drawer and forgotten, until now. I bring my free hand to my mouth just in time to stifle a sob, as I fall back to sit on the floor, leaning back against the footboard of the bed. I bring my knees up to my chest and fold my arms across them, leaning into the crook of my left elbow to cry, cradling the delicate flower loosely in my left hand to keep it from crumbling.

After a couple of minutes, I shake my head and force myself to my feet. No. I have to do this. This Jack wouldn't bring me flowers. This Jack probably wouldn't even remember this one. This Jack isn't my Jack. I consider crumbling the flower in my hand, but ultimately I turn around and tuck it back into the folds of one of the sweaters. Happy memories are important, however distant they may seem now. I move to look out the window, sighing when I can still see a cop car up the street. Turning back to the task at hand, I finish filling my suitcase with the basic clothes and necessities needed. When I am done, a thought occurs to me. How am I going to get out of here? I was so intent on getting ready to go, that actually walking out the door hadn't occurred to me. Would he just let me walk out? It doesn't seem likely. Would I be able to sneak by him? Honestly, the first option seems more plausible than that. I'm so distracted by thoughts of planning my escape that I don't hear the door open until it hits the wall behind it with a dull thud, making me jump and turn towards it.

There's Jack, eyes lifting suspiciously from my case on the bed to my own eyes. "What ya doin'?" He chimes in a pleasant voice, but I can tell it isn't genuine.

I'm at a loss for words. I should have waited until I was sobered up to plan this. This is something else I hadn't planned for. Getting caught. "Jack... I..." I stammer.

"'Jack, I,'" he mocks. "Answer the question, Kayl," the pleasantness leaves his voice as he stalks into the room, quietly closing the door behind him with a 'click.'

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. I'd have to tell him sometime, why not now? "I'm leaving, Jack," I'm proud of the fact that my voice only shakes a little bit as I say the words. "I can't do this anymore," once I've started talking, stopping doesn't come easily. "Everything that's happened... The things you've done... That I've let you do," I shake my head, disgusted. "We aren't the same people anymore, Jack."

He nods, his expression dark, and clears his throat. "So let me see if I've got this right, hmm, Kayl? You're not happy with the way things are, so you're just going to walk out the door and never come back?" He pauses. "Answer me, Kaylie," he barks impatiently. Slowly, I nod. "I see. Well, Sugar, I can't stop you," he shrugs, palms upturned, and takes two long strides into the room so that he's standing only a couple of feet from me. "And, I'm sure you've taken the time to, uh, think your decision through," his head bobs once from side to side. "Weighed your options. Thought back over the past couple years?" He phrases it as a question, so I nod again. "And, no doubt, you're very aware of the fact that you are a witness to two - well... Let's call it four, really - murders, and that the man who helped me arrange three of them already thinks of you as a liability," his eyes shine harshly and he grins smugly as he fixes me with a hard gaze. I frown and turn my head, not liking where this is going. "And, of course, you've taken into consideration the associate of this man sleeping in the room right across the hall-" he points to the door. "-and how odd it will look to him when you're not here in the morning. And me?" He presses his palm to the middle of his chest. "Why, I could never lie to these people, Sugar," his voice is, again, mocking. "The risk would be too great. I'd have to tell him you left me."

"Jack!" I try to interject, but he's speaking so fast and so intently that he doesn't even pause as I call out.

"So, you know that good ol' Doc, he'd have to go and tell Warren all about it, Kayl, not that he doesn't like you. He's just loyal. And smart. Knows that to do otherwise would be risking his own hide, and who'd do that these days?" he continues. "Warren would be furious. Who could blame him? Big risk he took letting you walk out of that warehouse. You don't let a witness go, Sugar. You just don'**t**. So, he'd put together a crew to track you down and take you out. And seeing as how you left me," he spits. "After all the hell we've been through together, you just walked out one night and left me with nothing? Who do you think's going to be leading that crew?" I feel my eyes bulge at the threat. "Hmm? So, go on. Go ahead. Tell me what a good idea it is and leave. Like I said, Sugar," he leans down to the side and flips my suitcase shut. "I can't stop you."

He sneers at me one last time before turning around and walking coolly back to the living room, surely to stand by the window again and take in his handiwork. I am left stunned and staring at my closed suitcase. He had just threatened my life. Surely, I couldn't stay now. But, he also had a point. How could I leave? I grit my teeth and zip my suitcase. Jack was right. I can't leave. Yet. Doesn't mean I can't be ready when the time comes. I heave the full suitcase off the bed and put it back in its place in the closet. Then I go to the bedroom door and lock it. No way am I chancing sharing a bed with that man tonight. Decision made, I strip out of my clothes and pull a night-shirt over my head. After the nights events, and with the sun just starting to lighten the sky outside my window, I lie down and fall asleep.

...

I bolt upright sometime later to the sound of three loud, irritated, bangs on the door. "Open u**p**, Sugar," I hear Jack growl on the other side. I don't answer him, hoping he'll go away. He is silent a moment, then: "Don't make me huff and puff."

I groan and grab my pillow as I roll out of the bed. He wants the bed, he can have it. I'll take the sofa. I throw the door open and am about to vocalize the same to him as I breeze by him, but no sooner do I move to take the first step past him does he grab me with one arm around my waist, throwing the door shut behind him with his other hand. Quick as I've ever seen him move, he spins me around and slams my back into the door, winding me, and holds me in place with a hand around my throat. His face is less than an inch from mine and I can feel his furious breath hitting my face like fists.

I can't speak. Can hardly move. I am frozen in shock and fear. I try to slowly move my hands to the one holding my throat, and he responds by angrily grabbing both hands in his free hand and gripping them painfully by my right hip. I gasp in pain. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care. The other times he got violent, it was my reaction that snapped him out of it. It isn't doing anything to help this time.

He is about to finally say something when a quick knock at the bedroom door interrupts him, causing me to jump. He tightens his grip on my throat warningly. "Everythin' alright in there?" Doc's voice. Of course. The commotion must have woken him. "I heard an awful racket."

Jack exhales angrily through his nostrils, but makes no motion to release me. "Just us, Doc," he replies. "Trying to, uh, have a little privacy here," he chuckles suggestively with his voice, but his face still shows no signs of humor.

"Oh, shit, Jackie," Doc calls back, embarrassed at the thought of interrupting us 'in the act.' "Sorry, kid, I'll leave ya to it."

Jacks eyes come back to settle on mine with a dark, satisfied glint in them. "Thanks," he listens as Doc retreats back to the guest room. Raising a warning eyebrow at me, he releases my hands. I pull them back and open them against the door, trying to show him that I'm not going to fight, hoping he'll let me go. He brings his, now free, hand up and places his index finger against his lips in a shushing motion. I give the best nod I can with his hand around my throat. Finally, he takes his hand away. Rather than move, though, he places his arm on the door above my head and leans in even further. When he speaks his voice is quiet and low, but not without anger.

"I've come to realize something in the past couple weeks, Sugar," he starts to explain. "This whole time, I figured it was a revenge thing," he nods and his hair tickles my forehead. "I never really stopped to consider that what happened?" He raises his eyebrows. "It changed me," he says seriously, then adopts a more cheerful tone. "For the better," he goes on. "Ya see this thing... this... urge... It isn't gonna just, POOF!" He springs back from the door loudly, startling me, and then leans right back in. "Go away now. Just because I have my so-called revenge," he rolls his eyes, as though the idea is foolish. "Ya see, Kayl," he smiles a faux-sympathetic smile. "I've realized something bigger is at work here. Something you taught me a long time ago. Chaos. Things just happen. Good things," he pauses. "Bad things. They're going to happen. And you'd may as well serve chaos, Sugar, 'cause it's sure as hell gonna serve you," he pats me twice on the right cheek while leaning in to my left ear. "Welcome to life," he whispers with a deep chuckle. "As you once told me."

As he stands up straight once again, he takes me by the hand and tugs me away from the door and to the bed, where he looks expectantly and impatiently at me. I sit down on the edge of the bed, not wanting to set him off into another rage. He walks around to his side of the bed and I hear him shuffle out of his clothes before I feel the bed sink beneath his weight. I still haven't laid down. I feel his arm snake its way around my middle, sore from when he snatched me up on my way out the door, and he pulls me down. I don't fight against him. I let him pull me down to the bed. He pulls be back so that I am laying snugly against his chest, one arm under my head wraps around to grip my other shoulder, his other arm drapes over my waist, his warm hand tracing patterns on the skin of my stomach under my nightshirt. I do nothing to stop him, just lay stiffly next to him.

"Oh, and, uh, Sugar?" He lifts his head to peak around mine, so that he can just make eye contact. I turn my head slightly to meet his eyes a bit more clearly, but don't answer him. "Lock that door on me again and I'll put you through it."

...

I barely sleep a wink the rest of the morning. Jack keeps me pinned tightly to him, and I listen to the telltale signs that he has drifted off to sleep, but every time I try to move myself away from him, his hold on me tightens. After he has slept a couple of hours, I abandon all subtlety and wrench myself from his grip, waking him.

"It's noon," I say numbly. "I'm getting up."

I can feel his eyes on my back, but don't turn around. Finally, after a long, tense moment, he speaks. "I'll be out in a minute," he grumbles. "Don't _go _anywhere."

I roll my eyes and stand, leaving the bedroom just as I hear him stretch out of bed. After going to the bathroom and brushing my teeth, I go right to the kitchen to find Doc sitting at the island, engaged in a heated staring contest with Samson. "Woke me up, now he won't stop staring at me," he reveals, not looking away from the cat.

I smile. "Breakfast time, right boys?" I chirp as Stanley jumps to the back of the sofa with a squawk. They both follow me into the spare room where I fill their bowl. When I come back out, Docs eyes are on mine. Then they travel lower, to my neck.

"What happened there, hon?" He asks casually, just as I hear Jack bound out of the hallway behind me.

"Got a little, uh, rough," he answers for me with an unwelcome swat on my behind. "Isn't that right, Sugar?" I nod after he raises his eyebrows pointedly at me, then look back at Doc, who doesn't look convinced.

"Sure it did," he mutters. I'm glad to see that Jack didn't seem to notice the comment on his way to the window. "Just a normal, sunny day out there, Jackie," he calls out, standing up. "Gotham's already forgotten your little mishap," Jack briefly shoots a glare in Doc's direction, giving the distinct impression that he didn't want it forgotten. "I should really be on my way. The boss'll be wonderin' where I been all night."

Jack remains silent, attention still focused out the window. "Thanks for everything, Doc," I say for him. "We really appreciate you coming out," I walk to the apartment door with him.

"It's nothin', Kaylie, glad to be of help," he pauses, then points at my neck. "How rough did it get?" He pries, and I know he's not asking about our sex life.

I flush, just the same, and look to the floor. "It's just a bit of fun," I lie, remembering what Jack said about me being a liability. I have no more reason to trust Doc than any of them, as much as I like the man personally. "Got a little carried away, is all."

Doc shakes his head and sighs. "Well, girlie, it ever stops being 'just a bit of fun?' You make sure you put a stop to it any way you can," he crouches to get eye contact. "I gotta tell ya, hon, that's a dangerous SOB in there. I won't say nothin' else. None of my business, I know," he shuffles awkwardly in the small entryway to open the door. "Just keep that in mind."

I hold his sad gaze for a moment longer before I nod. "I will, Doc, thanks," I reply. He offers a small smile before he closes the door, leaving me alone in the apartment with the 'dangerous SOB' at the window.

When I leave the entryway, Jack is still at the window, mumbling to himself. I can't make out much of what he's saying, but I think I hear the words: "... won't forget me for long..." in there somewhere. I quietly put on the kettle and busy myself cleaning the few dishes from the night before, careful not to turn and look at Jack. He has grown quiet, and I'm glad for the silence. As I pour myself a cup of tea, he speaks again. "Where would you go?" I look up and he is still looking out the window. "If you left last night. Where would you go?"

I blow on my tea to cool it and shrug. "I hadn't thought that far ahead," I reply honestly. "Home, I guess. Hallie's... I mean."

He nods. "Figured as much. Easy to find," he still hasn't looked away from the window.

I look down at the countertop and focus on a scratch on its surface. "I didn't think I'd have to hide from you, Jack."

"Won't let you go," he sing-songs, finally pushing himself away from the window and strolling towards the island. "What would I do without you?" He stops a few feet away, and I raise my eyes to his. "What would you do without me?"

"I'm afraid of you, Jack," I ignore his question. "Of what you're capable of doing. Of what you're going to do to me if I leave. What you've already done," I shake my head. "You scare me."

His expression, though still dark, softens momentarily. "I don't wanna scare you, Sugar," he says. "I don't want anything to. Remember? I want you to live... without fear," he explains, moving his hands fluidly as he speaks.

My eyes threaten to spill over with tears and my voice is shaking. "How do you expect me to live without fear with you?" I wipe my fingers under my eyes. "Please, let me go to Hallie's..." I practically beg.

He shakes his head. "Can't do that, Kaylie, you. Know. Why," he reminds me. "If you go and Warren catches wind of it," he throws his arms up. "He'll kill you."

"You'll kill me," I counter, unable to keep myself from crying.

He sighs angrily. "That was..." he lets out a roar, making me jump. "That was anger, of course I wouldn't. The rest, though? Warren would never let you walk twice," he shakes his head.

"I can't believe this," my head sinks into my hands. "This is so fucked up," I take a deep breath in an effort to calm myself. "Okay... Okay... I won't go. Not now," he nods victoriously. "But, I'm sleeping in the other room," he looks like he's about to argue, so I keep going. "Or you are. That's the best I can do, Jack. I can barely look at you. Share a bed? Sleep with you? No," I put a hand up. "No. Absolutely not."

"Sugar, if you'd just -"

I cut him off. "I have your fingers bruised into my fucking neck, Jack!" I holler. "I can't tell if my back is sore because I was knocked to the ground by the man you killed, or because afterwards you threw me into a door," I'm no longer yelling, but my voice is strong. "I shouldn't have to make the distinction. It shouldn't even be a question."

"I love you," he bites out angrily.

I scoff and shake my head, picking up my mug as I round the island back towards the hallway. "Is that a joke?" I hear him about to follow me. "I'm going to get changed. **Don't **follow me," he must have listened, as I make it to the bedroom and am able to close the door behind me without hearing any footsteps. I glance at the doorknob as I set my tea down on the bedside table. I consider, briefly, locking it, but can't bring myself to. Even though I don't think he's going to follow me, I can't shake his threatening words from the night before from my head. And I don't think I should.

I dress slowly, not in a hurry to leave the bedroom again and seriously considering hiding out in it all day. Monday. Of course it has to be Monday, my day off. Hopefully he'll go out somewhere, though I doubt I'll get that lucky after everything. Dressed, hair up, and tea gone, I have run out of excuses to put off leaving the room, and only managed to kill about thirty minutes. Picking up my empty mug with a sigh, I leave the room while figuring out in my head how much time I could take washing it if I went really slowly. Two or three minutes. However, I find myself slowing to a halt on my way to the kitchen when I see Jack standing there, back to me, hands on his hips, staring tensely at the floor. I'm not sure what to do, but I decide against going into the kitchen.

Instead, I wander into the living room and over to the window, almost surprised to find that Jack hasn't worn a track into the flooring there over the last night. Mug dangling from my fingers, I brave a glance at Jack. He hasn't looked up. Relaxing slightly, I look out the window. Nothing unusual to note outside. Another sigh. I start to turn and try my luck at getting into the kitchen, thinking to myself that walking by one's significant other should not be a risky endeavor. Before I turn the whole way around, something on Jack's desk catches my eye. His notebook. Open.

My eyes fly instinctively to him, sure he'd have caught me looking, but he's still in the kitchen, now leaning over the sink with his weight on his hands. He almost seems at war with his own thoughts and blocking out the world around him. I swallow thickly, keeping my eyes on Jack and taking a careful step towards the desk. As guarded as he's been about the contents of the book, I'm sure he wouldn't be pleased with me sneaking a peek at his innermost thoughts.

When I reach the desk, I slowly tear my eyes from Jack and look down at the open pages. What I see there confuses me. Literally. It makes no sense. It isn't his innermost thoughts and feelings. It isn't even words. It looks like equations and formulas. Plans. Sketches that look foreign to me. Figuring that this can't be what he's been keeping from me, I speak up.

"Jack," I call to him as I look up from the book. He turns to face me, expression blank. "What is all this stuff?" I ask boldly, my curiosity about his notebook outweighing the hostility I'm feeling for him.

His eyes move quickly from me down to the notebook and he laughs dryly. "That's just... work stuff," he shows his teeth in a gesture of distaste and laughs some more, meanwhile walking out of the kitchen. "They're planning a, uh, big ol' party for Halloween, and have asked me to provide some of the, uh, entertainment," I frown in confusion and look back down at the book to consider the scribbles within. His voice interrupts my thoughts once more. "Fireworks, Sugar," he reveals. "They're plans for a fireworks display."

...

A/N - Lots of tension between the happy couple in this one. Wonder what ol' Jack has planned for Halloween...? Hope this wasn't too frustrating :-) You guys are really awesome, and I thank you so much, again. Anyone else incredibly anxious awaiting this upload of The Joker Blogs? I can hardly wait!


	25. I Might Have Changed It All

_If I'd only known how the king would fall_

_Hey, who's to say? You know I might have changed it all_

_And now I'm glad I didn't know_

_The way it all would end the way it all would go_

_Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain_

_But I'd of had to miss the dance._

**Garth Brooks - The Dance**

The next few days pass by quietly, with Jack and I living like irritated roommates instead of lovers. I move into the spare room. He spends little time at the apartment, and when he is there, we don't speak. I'm not sure who is punishing who with the silent treatment, but it seems to be working for us. We're getting by. No talking means no fighting, after all, which is the best I could really hope for in this situation.

I arrive home from work one night and find Jack sitting at my spot at the island. His presence startles me, as he's not been home when I've gotten there the past few nights and I've grown accustomed to the solitude. My apartment almost felt like mine again at times like that. My reaction to him being there draws a humorless chuckle from him and he brings a glass to his lips. It's then that I notice the bottle of whiskey on the counter - with about a third of the bottle missing - and the unmistakable scent of booze in the air.

"Drinking alone?" The first words spoken between us in days, and they're sarcastic and accusing.

"Join me," he tips his glass to me. "Then neither of us has to."

I feel my face redden at his all-too-true implication. I had been drinking frequently. Just the same, I sit in what was always his spot at the island and point to the cupboard behind him. He stands to get me a glass, fills it and sits back down, sliding the drink across the island to me. I take a large sip and close my eyes at the welcome burn of the first swig of the day. Turning the glass between my hands on the counter, I extend my index finger to point at the bottle. "Almost halfway in, huh? Must be bad."

He snorts a laugh. "You, uh, forget to leave work at the hotel, Sugar? Your bartender's showing," he takes a drink from his glass. "Yeah, it's pretty bad. I pissed my girl off and now she won't even look at me."

I lift my eyes to his, which are glazed over with drink and staring into his glass. "I'm looking at you, Jack," his eyes shoot to mine. "I just can't see you anymore. That's the problem," I empty my glass and hold it out for him to refill.

"No," he shakes his head as he pours. "You see me just fine, Sugar," he downs his own drink so he can pour himself another, as well. "That's the real problem. You've decided you don't like what you see. Can't accept it."

"And, that's somehow my fault?" My eyes are burning into his. I feel my anger grow as he raises his eyebrow and shrugs, suggesting that he feels it is. "Oh, fuck you, Jack. I'm not the one killing people like it's the acceptable thing to do. This is on you."

"No, no, Kayl," he wags his finger in front of himself before pointing it at me. "You were perfectly willing to let it happen and accept the consequences, as long as it meant old Jack came back, hmm? You didn't get your way, so you decided it was wrong, after all. That normal? Think that's healthy?" He pushes his finger down into the countertop. "This is on you as much as anyone. The things I wouldn't have done for you outweighed anything I would have done for myself, Sugar. You know that's the truth."

I let my face fall to my hands as the tears come. "We tried that, Jack, remember?" I sob. "You tried to hurt me because of it."

"You should have left," he spits. "You decided that killing was okay when it came down to it meaning we'd go back to normal."

I know he's right, and for a few minutes, my sobs are the only sound in the apartment before I calm myself. "Why-" I cough to clear my throat. "Why are you drinking?"

He looks up from where he'd been pouring himself another drink. "Mourning a loss," he shrugs. "Cry for help," he laughs, dryly. "Whatever my reasons, it gotcha talkin', so I'll call it a success," he takes a sip of his drink. "You've been like a ghost around here, Kayl. Haunting your own apartment. Not saying a word. Never a glance in my direction. Nothing."

"You're the ghost, Jack," I counter. "The person you were, the man I loved, he's dead. And I'm stuck in this place with his angry spirit. I can't leave. There's a death threat looming over my head should I try," I bark out a bitter laugh. "Half the time I talk to you, I end up getting hurt. Better to just keep my mouth shut," we're both staring into our drinks, and my slightly intoxicated state has me feeling bold. "You could leave, you know," he looks up at me. "I've thought about it. I can't leave because it would be suspicious, but your boss couldn't put it on me if you were the one to leave."

He smirks and shakes his head. "Then you'd go to the cops out of anger and spite instead of fear," he retorts. "Believe me, Kayl, I've thought about it, too. There's no way it doesn't come back around to you getting killed."

I'm momentarily stunned. "You've thought about it?"

He shrugs, spinning his glass in his fingers. "Neither of us is happy with this arrangement, Sugar. I thought it'd get better again. Like it always does," he smiles sadly and looks up at me. "End of an era, hmm?" He empties his glass again. There is enough whiskey left in the bottle to fill his glass once more, but before he does, he tips the bottle towards me. I shake my head. "All good things..." he mumbles.

We sit in silence as he nurses his drink. His words are turning over and over in my head, and I feel my eyes welling up once more. I bring a hand up to cover my eyes. This time, it's quiet. No sobs, just the occasional sniffle. My face flies from my hand when I hear another quiet sniffle in the room. My eyes find Jacks face just as he wipes a hand down over it. His eyes are red rimmed. He'd also been crying.

He looks at me as I move to stand. "Be right back," I whisper tearfully. I go to the spare room - my room - and fish around the top shelf of my closet until my hand lands on what I'm looking for. When I get back to the kitchen, Jack is regarding me with a puzzled expression. I wave a full whiskey bottle at him. "My stash," he looks at me skeptically. "End of an era, right?" He nods. "She deserves to go out with a bang."

I refill both of our glasses and set the bottle on the island next to the empty one. Jack picks up his glass and hoists it skyward. "To us!" he exclaims.

I mimic the action. "Two years ago," we clink our glasses together before each taking a generous sip. "What now?"

He shrugs and take another sip. "I don't know, Sugar, but we've got a bottle of whiskey to go before we need to figure it out," he looks at his glass, now half full, before setting it in front of him on the island. "I'm in no hurry," he folds his arms and sits forward on the island to lean on them.

I nod sadly, setting my glass down across from his. "Me, neither," I agree, wiping my eyes and propping my elbow on the island, resting my chin in my hand. "Why did you sit there?"

"It's yours," he responds without hesitation. "Well, uh, that and the booze cupboard's right here," I hear him tap the cupboard door twice with his boot. "Why'd you sit down?" He nods once at me.

I shake my head. "I miss you, Wild Card."

"I'm right here, Sugar."

"That's not what I mean, Jack," my voice is growing tight again and I take a deep breath to calm myself. "You know that's not what I mean. I miss the way you were before. I miss laughing and teasing. I miss love," I roll my eyes. "I miss not having to explain bruises to my co-workers."

"I'm sorry," he stands and walks around the island to stand behind me. I feel myself tense, but don't move to get up. He slides my jacket from my shoulders and gently squeezes my arms. "I am," my body wants nothing more than to lean back into his touch, but I force myself to stay as I am and take another drink of whiskey. I can feel the tears behind my eyes again and it isn't long before they start rolling down my cheek. He stands behind me as I sit in what used to be his spot at the island, half empty glass tipping slightly in my hand. "Give me a memory," he says huskily, his fingers ghosting up my bare arms. "Something you cherish. From before."

I smile sadly to myself, tears beginning to well up in my eyes as I speak slowly, slightly slurring, my voice thickened with booze and tears. "That night," I raise my glass, pointing with my index finger towards the hallway. "Our first night. Together. You took me to the roof and we danced under the stars. It was so beautiful. I wouldn't change that for anything. Even now," my voice wavers, nearly breaking again. "You were so gentle. So perfect. Caring. You took such care then. In everything," I sniffle, using my glass-holding hand to wipe under my nose before taking a swig of whiskey, relishing the burn as it slides down my throat. "Having a drink with you was a happy occasion in those days," I laugh a bitter, sad laugh. "You hated it when I cried," my voice quavers painfully as I say this. "Look how far you've come. Where did you go, Jack? How did things get so-" I stop talking as I spin in the stool. The spot where he had been standing now empty, the door to the apartment still open where he'd left. I feel my body jerk with a sob. He actually left. Like I asked him to. However terrible he'd been, whatever awful things he'd done, in that moment he cared enough to do the right thing. For the first time in months, I feel some semblance of peace.

...

A/N - Sorry for the long wait and the short chapter! This is a bit of a filler, but it is important (and you will all see why soon). The next chapter will be longer. I feel awful for the long wait. Things have been crazy for me. The good new is, I have much of the next couple chapters ready to go, it all just needs to be sewn together, so to speak. I hope that, at least, part of the point of this chapter is clear, that Kaylie's no saint and Jack (my version) isn't a born monster. He is battling things just like she is. They're both on downward spirals as it stands.

Do you think Jack really left? The next chapter really shouldn't be such a long wait, so you'll find out soon. Anyone else itching for episode 2 of The Joker Blogs : One Bad Day? I sure am!

As always, you guys are the raddest of rats. Thanks a million!


	26. We Can Change Ourselves

A/N - WARNING: This chapter contains things that some readers may find upsetting. References to cutting and suicide are mentioned. If that bothers you, please skip this chapter.

_We all begin with good intent_

_When love was raw and young_

_We believe that we can change ourselves_

_The past can be undone_

_But we carry on our back the burdens time always reveals_

_In the lonely light of morning_

_In the wound that would not heal_

_It's the bitter taste of losing everything_

_I've held so dear_

_I've fallen_

_I have sunk so low_

_I messed up_

_Better I should know_

_So don't come 'round here and_

_Tell me I told you so_

**Sarah McLachlan - Fallen**

I woke up to the sound of the apartment door closing and shoot upwards in bed. The first thing that strikes me is that I'm in my old bedroom. Jack's bedroom. Then the events of the previous night all flood back to me and I shake my head. Of course he wouldn't stay gone. I stretch out of the bed and spare a glance at the clock. Nine in the morning. I groan. Barely four hours of sleep. I walk down the hall and find Jack hunched over his desk scribbling furiously in that book of his.

"I thought you left," I croak, feeling foolish.

He drops the pen and turns to me, his expression one of irritation, and I regret opening my mouth. "Doesn't this feel a little bit repetitive, Sugar?" He snarls. "I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. You'll end up dead. I can't risk that," he seems to turn inwards for a moment before snapping out of it, eyes on mine once again. "There's only one way out of this for you. You know it, and I know it."

I throw my hands up. "This is why I don't talk to you," I sigh. He stands by his desk, tapping the fingers of his right hand on its edge. "I'm getting a bath," I turn back down the hallway. "I'll be awhile."

I don't let any tears flow until the water is rushing loudly from the tap. I'm getting sick of my own emotions. I should be used to feeling devastated by now. Thankfully, the crying spell is brief, and soon I am stepping into the tub. After a few minutes of soaking and thinking about what my life has become, I realize that my gaze has been fixed on my razor on the edge of the tub from the moment I sunk into the too-hot water. Unbidden, tears once again spring to my eyes as I reach for it with shaking hands. Taking my own life had never been an option for me, but Jack's words were ringing over and over in my ears.

Only one way out.

Cautiously, hands still shaking, I break the plastic casing to free the three, thin blades, cutting my fingers a few times in the process, but not caring. I feel a heavy lump in my throat as I set two of them aside with the broken handle. I swallow thickly and bring one to my wrist. Tears running down my face, I press it into my skin. The pain is instant, and I pull the blade away from my wrist in a panic, realizing I could never go through with something like this. Unfortunately, the combination of my frazzled nerves, shaking hands and turning stomach sees me unintentionally cut deeper as I tear the blade away, and more blood than I had expected to see flows freely from my wrist.

I toss the bloodied blade away from myself, as though it had cut me of its own free will. Throwing my upper body forward and over the edge of the tub, I yank the toilet seat open with my bleeding left hand and empty the meager contents of my stomach into the bowl violently and loudly before allowing myself to fall backwards into the tub, water splashing onto the floor as I gasp through angry sobs.

Three loud bangs sound on the door. "Kaylie?" Jack hollers. "What's goin' on in there?" He sounds annoyed.

I search frantically around the room with my eyes, as though a good lie would appear on one of the fixtures. Then I sigh and laugh, between the vomiting and the bleeding, I feel light-headed. "I tried to kill myself," I say matter-of-factly, my voice laced with euphoric amusement. "Then, I threw up," I laugh harder at this, as though it's the world's best joke. "And there's water aaaaall over the floor," I sing humorously.

More laughter erupts from me when the bathroom door flies open and Jack's angry face appears behind it. His anger turns to alarm when he takes in the scene before him. Blood on the tub, in the water, on the toilet seat, on the floor where the razor landed, on my face where I had pushed my hair back, water all over the floor. He hurries to the tub, pulling me out roughly by the upper arms and lifting me onto the countertop. I lean forward and bury my nose in his neck, hiding my eyes in the crook between his neck and shoulder. My laughter had turned to all-out sobbing, and I just wanted to be comforted by the smell of my Jack.

He pulls back from me and regards me with concern at arm's length. Gingerly, he takes my damaged arm in his rough hands and turns it over. I hiss through my teeth as he rubs my towel down my forearm, cleaning some of the blood off. I feel myself growing alarmed when I see the blood is still flowing. "Jack..." my voice is weak and shaky, and I can feel myself swaying as the world spins too quickly around me.

"Shut up," he says, but his voice is soft and when his eyes meet mine, they are full of concern. He pushes me back slowly so that I am leaning against the mirror behind me. He points a finger in my face. "Don't. Move." He commands, thrusting his finger forward and raising his brows to drive the point home. I nod my understanding weakly and trail my eyes after him as he leaves the room.

When he returns a moment later, he has his phone to his ear and his expression is serious. I jolt when I hear his voice, unaware that I had been starting to doze off. He is talking to Doc. I can't believe this is necessary. After a brief conversation, he snaps the phone shut. "He'll be here soon," he says, as much to himself as to me. He pulls the door halfway closed and looks behind it, reaching back there for something. He comes back with his dark green robe. It's then that I realize I've started to shiver. I didn't know I could be so unaware of my own body. He pulls me forward and wraps the robe around my shoulders, then continues to slide me forward until I slip off the countertop. If it weren't for Jack, my legs never would have held me. I fall forward into his chest and am surprised when I feel his arms wrap around my back and pull me tightly to him. I rejoice inwardly at the contact and snuggle myself into his arms.

My legs are weak as he leads me to the living room, hand tight on my wrist, which has already soaked through the thick material of his robe. He lowers me onto the sofa and sits next to me, watching me closely, but saying nothing. I laugh weakly and sigh, leaning my head back to rest on the back of the sofa. With that simple motion, my vision clouds inward and my world fades to black.

I find myself being awakened what feels only like a second later by Doc's rough voice calling my name. "There she is," he smiles down at me when I open my eyes. "What happened here, kid?" He asks conversationally as he cleans my wrist with some sort of stinging wipe.

I look to Jack, whose face is a combination of concern and irritation. He shrugs wordlessly. "I-I... Uh... My family died," I blurt in a raspy voice. "It's been a few months now, but, uh, it's not getting any better."

"Aw, hon," his tone is sympathetic as he starts to stitch me up. I wince. "That's just terrible. But this is never the answer," he shakes his head. "Your family wouldn't want this for you. Ya gotta go on."

My chest feels tight as I watch his face, which is totally focused on his work. I want so badly to tell him everything. Tell him to take me out of here. Ask him why he didn't just let Jack die. Beg him to kill him for me now. But I don't. I just watch him work until he is done, then lay myself down on the sofa. I am aware of hushed voices across the apartment, then of a door clicking shut. Jack is soon crouched in front of me looking worried and confused.

"Kaylie..." he shakes his head, bringing his hand up to my hair. "What the fuck?" Is all he can say.

I force myself to sit upright twisting my head away from his hand, which then falls to his leg. "One way out, Jack," I say, obviously. "Remember?"

"I didn't mean for you to kill yourself!" He shouts, leaping to his feet and looking down at me in astonishment.

My eyes are focused beyond him, at the window, and I shake my head. "You need to let me go to Hallie's," I tell him. "Your threat doesn't mean anything anymore. I'm dead if you make me stay here," I look to him with pleading eyes. "Please don't make me stay here."

His eyes are wide with uncertainty and besides a slow shaking of his head, he is still as a statue. After a moment, he relaxes and he sits down on the coffee table across from me, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, tenting his fingers between them. "What would you tell her?" He points one finger at my bandaged wrist.

I feel a jolt of hope. He's considering it. I straighten in my seat and shrug. "I-I'll tell her what I told Doc," I say. "That things have been tough... with everything going on. I'll tell her it was an act of desperation, that I don't want to ki... that I don't want to die. That you and I both think we need some space, that I need to be close to home... I won't tell her _anything _else, Jack, I _swear_," I implore him.

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and releases it with a hiss through his teeth. "What about her family, Kayl, hmm? Ya think she's going to want suicidal big sis around her kid? She's got more than you to worry about."

I shake my head. "Hallie loves me. She'll understand better than anyone where I'm coming from and -"

"She won't," he talks over me.

"She will," I argue. "We'll just tell Charlie I hurt myself. That's all."

"It won't matter," he smirks. "Not in the end. I'm all you have left, Sugar. Hallie has her own family - "

"I'm her family!" I shout, surprising us both. "And they're mine," I lower my voice. "I need them."

He sighs angrily. "Go, then," he finally relents. "But don't say I didn't warn ya. I'm all you have left, Sugar."

Not wanting to cause him to change his mind, I don't argue with him. I stand up slowly on shaking legs. "Thank you," I say meekly. He stands hurriedly and storms down the hall. I hear something land on the floor with a thud followed by the bedroom door slamming. I walk to the hallway and there is my suitcase, still packed, on its side. I collect the bag and put it by the door with my purse and jacket before calling myself a cab. I wrangle my cats into their carrier, as well, to take them with me. By the time I have everything ready, the cab is just pulling up to the sidewalk. Jack hasn't come out of the room. I sigh and take the elevator downstairs, asking the cab driver for some help to gather my things. When we step out of the elevator back on my floor, everything I had inside the door is out in the hallway, the apartment door shut firmly behind them.

The driver carries my suitcase and the cats, thankfully, as I am having trouble managing to keep myself upright just carrying my purse. I am glad when we reach the vehicle and I am able to sit down. As soon as I hear the car start, I feel myself doze off.

...

I wake up to a gentle hand on my arm and the concerned face of the cab driver crouched outside of the car door. "Y'okay, Miss?" He asks nervously.

I smile, embarrassed, and step past him out of the car, leaning back against it as soon as I am standing, as my legs feel even weaker than they had before. "Just a little under the weather," I straighten my purse on my shoulder. "Could you, uh...?" I gesture awkwardly at the car.

The driver springs into action with an understanding nod of his head, getting my suitcase and the cats out of the car and carrying them up the steps of my old house. Just seeing the house again fills me with a comfort that I can't describe. I pay the driver and he helps me get my things inside. It's a Wednesday afternoon. Nobody's home. The first thing that strikes me is that the house smells different. Not bad. Just not like home. It's Hallie's now, and she's made it her own. I smile when I see Bella making her way over to me from the kitchen area, tail wagging. I crouch down to greet her properly.

Not wanting to impose myself too much, I simply take my things into the kitchen and put them down. I settle myself at the kitchen table and lay my head down on my folded arms. It isn't long before I succumb to the blackness again and drift off to sleep.

...

"Kaylie..." a voice cuts through my slumber some time later. It sounds distant and muffled. "Kaylie. Oh, she's coming around, thank God. Kaylie?" My sister's voice. I open my eyes and her face is near mine, blurry, but coming into focus. "Are you okay? What happened? Kaylie?"

"'M fine," I stretch my arms up. "I'm fine. I'm sorry. Everything's fine. I must've... fell asleep."

"Why are you here? You're white as a sheet. Are you feeling alright?" She brings the back of her hand to my forehead, ever the mom.

I pull back from her touch. "I need to talk to you," I take her hand in mine. "Grady, can you take Charlie upstairs? Or... or Hallie, can we go upstairs?"

Grady sets a glass of water in front of me. "Charlie, let's go upstairs, buddy, Aunt Kay has to talk to Momma."

"Thanks," I smile, then look at my nephew. "Hi, sweetheart. We won't be long, okay?"

"Okay," he looks puzzled. "Where's Uncle Jackie?"

Grady takes him by the hand and starts leading him from the room. "Let's get going, little man."

My eyes follow them from the room, then finally turn back to Hallie. Her expression is deeply concerned. I try to smile reassuringly and give her hand a gentle squeeze. "Kaylie, you're scaring me. What's going on?" Her voice is quiet, but serious.

"I," I take a deep breath. "I did a stupid thing today, Hal," I begin, my eyes flitting about the room, trying to avoid holding eye contact with her. Eventually, they settle on watching my fingers play with her bracelet. "Things have been so..." My voice cracks and the tears I'd been expecting start to overflow from my eyes. "So fucked up," I'm having trouble speaking through my sobs.

"Hey, now, hey," she brings her hands to my face and thumbs my tears away from my cheeks. "It's okay, hun, you can tell me. What happened?"

I meet her worried, tearful eyes with my own and continue. "Jack and I have been fighting a lot, and with everything else that's happened..." I'm not sure how to say what I've done. "God, Hallie, it's just too much. I'm not made to deal with this shit."

Her face shows some realization and she nods. "Mom and Dad?" She tilts her head. "Aiden?" I nod. "Of course. It's way too much, Kay. But we have to deal with it. It's all we can do."

I shake my head. "No, Hallie, you don't get it," I pull the sleeve of my sweater halfway up my arm, revealing the clean, white bandage on my wrist. "I did this today. Look!" I hold it out to her. "Look what I fucking did. How I deal. What kind of an..." I shake my head, angry with myself. "Idiot does something like this."

"Oh my God, Kaylie," gingerly, she takes my wrist in her hands. Her face is horrified. Her breath starts coming in heaving sobs. "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?" She drops my hand and wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug as we both cry into each other's hair. "Oh my God," she repeats herself. "Why didn't you say?"

"I didn't know how," I keep my face buried in her hair. "You have enough to deal with - "

She pulls back from me. "Never too much for my big sister. You know that," she wipes my face with her hands again, then her own with her sleeve. "They didn't keep you at the hospital?"

"I didn't go," I raise my eyebrows and smile tightly. "Jack's friend, he... patched me up."

"You should talk to someone," Hallie says seriously.

I grimace and wave my hand dismissively. "No, Hal. I don't need to do that. I was just desperate. At the end of my... whatever. I don't want to..." I lower my voice to a whisper. "Kill myself," I start speaking normally again. "I just didn't know... What else to do. Jack and I," I look pleadingly at her. "We both think I need some time away. Some time at home. Here."

Hallies eyes open dramatically. "Of course, Kaylie. Always. Your room is still there. There's some boxes in there, but..." she looks at me sympathetically. "Stay as long as you need to. But please, talk to someone?"

I shake my head again. "No, listen," I roll my eyes. "If I don't start coming out of this funk in the next week or two, I'll surrender, but until then, please, just let me do this my way?"

She shakes her head, I can tell she is skeptical, but she's not going to force me. "There's an old litter box in the basement. Don't let those cats piss up my house," she points a finger at me. "I'll get Grady to take your stuff upstairs. I'm going to make supper. You work tonight?"

"Fuck," I had forgotten about work. "I'm supposed to be there in an hour," I sigh. "I'll call in."

"You know where the phone is," she knocks once on the table as she stands to go prepare supper.

I go to the phone in the living room and sit down in my Dads old chair. I lean back, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. If I could forget, just for a moment, I could convince myself that he was in the room just by the smell of him in this chair. The coffee and Old Spice, sawdust and peppermint smell that made up my old man. What I wouldn't give to have him back right now. Not allowing myself to wallow and cry again, I sit up and pick up the phone, dialing Ern's office phone.

After three rings, he picks up. "Beckford Inn, Ern speaking."

"Hey," I greet him, my voice still hoarse.

"Kay-Kay? That you, sweetie?"

"Yeah, it's me," I confirm. "Listen, I know I've been doing this a lot, but something's happened. I won't be in tonight."

He sighs. "Everything okay?" The concern in his voice is paired with thinly-veiled irritation and I feel a pang of guilt that my personal life is negatively impacting others.

I hesitate. "Not really. I'll be there tomorrow. I promise."

"Okay," he sounds uncertain. "I know you've been through the ringer lately, my dear, but this is the last bit of slack I can afford to cut you," I can tell he doesn't want to be saying this. "I love you, sweetie, but you're gone more than you're here. If you don't come in tomorrow, I'm afraid we're going to have to let you go."

I smile. Only Ern could make that sound so kind. "I understand, Ern. I'll be there."

"Alright," another sigh. "Later."

"Bye," I reply, just as I hear him hang up. I replace the phone on the receiver and sit back once more in my father's chair, resolving to take a nap in the closest thing to my Dad's arms as I'll ever have again, and making a promise to myself that when I wake up, I'll get myself back on the right track again.

...

A/N - And Kaylie is coming a bit more unhinged. Hope this chapter was alright and not too dark for anyone. Also, to anybody interested, I've started another story. Too many ideas were flying around my head, many that didn't fit at all with this story. Check it out, if you're interested. It's a Joker fic, but not like this one at all. Let me know what you think!


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